


We've Been Waiting

by reclaiming_erebor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Human Smaug, M/M, Modern Middle Earth, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28529469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reclaiming_erebor/pseuds/reclaiming_erebor
Summary: Bilbo gets more than he bargained for when an old friend returns to his life to push him into a quest to reclaim an estate stolen by Middle-earth’s most notorious jewel thief. For starters, the estate is halfway across the world and Bilbo isn’t thrilled that he won’t be home in time for dinner. As he reluctantly undergoes this journey with a company of strange dwarves, Bilbo has to reconcile the present with a past he’d prefer to forget.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

It was gloomy for a Tuesday morning in late spring, but it was not gloomy enough to discourage Bilbo from sitting out on his porch. He would sit out there every day unless there was a particularly intense downpour that would soak through his clothes quickly. Otherwise he thought it a waste to skip a day of sitting outside and enjoying the scenery.

Bilbo closed his eyes and breathed in a hefty gasp of the crisp air. He wanted to savor every second of his time outside before he had to go back inside. There was something so serene about these moments, the times when he got this time to himself to relax and unwind from the stressors of everyday life.

At least, there was until he opened his eyes and saw a tall man in tattered gray clothes standing over him.

_Where did he come from?_ Bilbo thought.

“Good morning,” Bilbo said, stammering a bit as he felt reluctance overtake him. Something about this man being here felt off and he wanted to run away from the situation, but courtesy dictated that he not do that.

“Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?” The man inquired, raising an eyebrow. “Or perhaps that you feel good this morning or that it is a morning to be good on?”

“Um, all of the above, I suppose.” Bilbo paused, trying to get a sense of where this conversation was going. The odd feeling in his gut was growing, but he couldn’t quite pin what was off about this whole situation. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The man huffed. “Well, I’m Gandalf and Gandalf means me.” Then he paused, thinking over how to say his next words. “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. He realized this man had to be a wizard, judging by his stature and his clothes. “What do you mean by adventure? I doubt anyone west of Bree is looking for any sort of adventure.”

Gandalf looked him over before he spoke again. “Well, then, I think it will be very good for you to go on an adventure.”

Bilbo did not like the sound of this. He did not like it at all. Whatever Gandalf wanted, it wasn’t good news. He got onto his feet and started for the front door, hoping to escape the wizard’s judging glare. “No, no, we do not need any _adventures_ around here! Good morning to you!”

“I did not come here to be good morning’d by Belladonna Took’s son.”

Upon hearing his mother’s name Bilbo stood straighter. He looked at Gandalf more closely as if trying to assess him. But he just couldn’t put together the pieces of who this wizard really was. Had they met before? They must have, judging by Gandalf’s seemingly calm demeanor. But how did he know Bilbo or his mother? There were only a few wizards in Middle-earth, so surely Bilbo would have remembered meeting at wizard before.

“What has my mother got to do with this?”

***

In the hours that followed his strange encounter with Gandalf, Bilbo struggled to focus with his work. After storming back into the house he headed straight for his office in the hopes that his work would distract him. He loved his work. He loved poring over his books and maps and would often spend more time than he needed to just working because it was so easy for him to become engrossed in whatever task he set his mind to.

But that was not the case today. He could barely focus for an hour before he got up and walked around his house with the hopes of clearing his mind before heading into the kitchen for a snack. Then he trailed back to his office, where the cycle repeated hour after hour as he struggled to keep the deepest of his thoughts entirely away for long enough to get any comprehensive work done.

This was enough to sour Bilbo’s mood, but he tried to not let it get to him too much for too long. He kept a close eye on the clock throughout the day and as soon as it struck 5 that afternoon, he let himself off the hook for working. He didn’t like giving up for the day without any successful work to show—it felt so uncharacteristic for him to feel so disconnected from his work like this—but he was too frustrated to think too much of it. Not when he found himself heading straight back towards the kitchen. Even cooking would be enough to help him get his mind off things.

Bilbo spent the evening putting together a rather elaborate dinner, consisting of several courses. It felt right for the occasion so he felt overjoyed by the time he finally sat down ready to dig in. He put the finishing touch of salt on his first course when the doorbell rang, instantly pulling him out of his docile state. He scowled and for a moment considered ignoring it because he didn’t want to pull himself out of this newfound good mood and away from his eloquent dinner. He didn’t like the idea of company arriving uninvited, but he knew it would be rude to simply ignore whoever was at the door. He grumbled as he pulled himself out of the chair.

For a split second Bilbo was relieved to open the door to find out it was not Gandalf at the door, but then he snapped back into reality and realized that didn’t explain that a complete stranger was standing at his door. Two complete strangers, for that matter.

“I am Fíli,” one of the men said. Judging by their appearance, they seemed to be dwarves. What were _dwarves_ doing at his house at this late hour?

“And I am Kíli,” the other dwarf said.

Then both men bowed and said, “At your service,” in unison. This struck Bilbo as rather odd.

“I… I never ordered any service.” Bilbo frowned, his heart pounding. He couldn’t decide he was more uncomfortable or annoyed with what was unfolding right before his eyes. Hadn’t he dealt with enough today? Why couldn’t he have a simple night to himself?

If the two dwarves— _Fíli and Kíli,_ Bilbo remembered—had heard Bilbo then they made no indication of it. They squeezed right past Bilbo and entered his house, which only furthered the pounding in his heart. What was going on?

They made their way into Bilbo’s kitchen, the beginning of which Bilbo had only seen glaring over his shoulder. Once he figured out where they were going, though, he spun around and raced after them. It was already enough for him that he had unexpected company that he didn’t know, but he didn’t like the idea of his unexpected, unfamiliar company to wander into the kitchen without him.

So much for Bilbo’s peaceful dinner.

But before Bilbo could catch up to them and ask them what they thought they were doing, the doorbell rang again and Bilbo felt the pit in his stomach only grow larger. Who could this be _now_?

Bilbo nearly hesitated going to the door, the hope of stopping in his tracks and telling off Fíli and Kíli still clinging in his mind, but he forced the thought aside as he headed back out of the kitchen and towards the door.

Bilbo thought he had finally had enough when he opened the door to see Gandalf on the other side. Why was this a surprise to him? Of course Gandalf was behind this. Leave it to Gandalf to send _strangers_ to Bilbo’s door at this time in the evening. No one else would be so bold to do that.

Before Bilbo had the chance to fully process the moment and open his mouth to tell Gandalf off, though, Gandalf stepped in through the door and came into the house like Fíli and Kíli had.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said as he finally acknowledged Bilbo standing dumbfounded, trying not to stir in his own confusion.

“What are these two doing here?” Bilbo asked, crinkling his brow as he gestured towards the kitchen towards the men who were more than likely raiding his kitchen. He wanted to know what was going on already.

But Gandalf’s response only caught Bilbo off guard even more. “Just two? That means we’re still waiting on one more.”

“Wait—we? You mean there’s more of them coming? Isn’t two enough already?”

Gandalf didn’t respond to Bilbo’s questions. By this point he had already turned around and made his way for the kitchen where Fíli and Kíli were. Bilbo tried to brush off his frustration, at least for this brief moment, and followed Gandalf into the kitchen. There he saw that Fíli and Kíli were helping themselves to his dinner and ruining the elaborate and careful arrangement he had set up—did they have no manners, no consideration for this man’s house?

Then someone knocked at the door again and Bilbo had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Whoever was there was knocking in a rather aggressive, rude way, too. Even though he was growing more annoyed with his predicament, he still thought it rude to show this disdain in front of his “guests.” If he could call these unwelcome strangers that. He supposed Gandalf was a guest because at least he already knew Gandalf, even if Bilbo thought he was rather unwelcome at this time of the night, too. But here he was in this present moment and he couldn’t simply tell them to bugger off, so he needed to stop dwelling on it so much.

He made his way to the door and he found himself hesitating before he lifted his hand to turn the knob. It was like he wanted to turn away from the door and just escape out the window to avoid the fact that he was here in this present moment with Gandalf throwing together who-knew-what plan without ever considering if Bilbo wanted to be involved. But of course he was not going to do that with Gandalf here. Gandalf who would surely find him again and try to find a way back into his life. He was the only person from Bilbo’s old life who knew this address and Bilbo wished it wasn’t that way, but wishing wasn’t going to change anything.

He opened the door.

On the other side of the door was a dwarf who looked similar to Fíli and Kíli— _Are they family?_ Bilbo found himself wondering, since they all resembled one another and Bilbo didn’t know any dwarves—who was dressed in a dark cloak, with his hood covering his face. He pulled the hood down and the light from inside the house illuminated his face. A dark beard defined the lower half of his face, but Bilbo could tell underneath the dark light and the beard that this man had light eyes.

“Thorin.” Bilbo heard Gandalf speak from right behind him—how had he crept up so silently up close behind Bilbo without catching Bilbo’s attention? Leave it to a wizard to figure that sort of mystery out. Bilbo figured this had to be the dwarf’s name. But who was he, really? Who were that Fíli and Kíli raiding his kitchen?

“Gandalf,” the dwarf called Thorin said to the wizard as he slid in through the threshold of the door, not seeming to pay any mind to Bilbo standing dumbfounded, watching him enter. Bilbo found this incredibly impolite, but shouldn’t he have known by now to not expect proper manners from these dwarves the way he did from his fellow hobbits? This Thorin, though, seemed to have a particularly inflated sense of self-importance that superseded plain good manners.

Once in the house the man called Thorin took one look at Gandalf and then turned his head back to look at Bilbo. “So this is the burglar you told me about?”

Bilbo felt like he was about to choke on his own tongue. Burglar? _Burglar?_ Gandalf was going around telling strangers that _he_ , Bilbo Baggins, nothing short of a sensible hobbit, was a burglar?

“Close the door, Bilbo, before you let anyone else in,” Gandalf said, moving past Bilbo to close the front door for him when he saw Bilbo wasn’t going to do it himself. Bilbo blinked and forced himself to focus on the present moment. He was going to get swept away in his own thoughts of annoyance if he didn’t ground himself.

Thorin paused to look over Bilbo. “Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“Huh?”

“Axe or sword, what’s your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, heart racing once again. “I fail to see why that’s relevant…”

“I thought as much.” Thorin turned away and made his way towards the kitchen. Bilbo thought he rather lacked manners, too.

_Great, just what I need, another dwarf trying to mooch off my dinner,_ Bilbo thought. _And I haven’t even gotten to enjoy one bite of it…_

“Who are they and what are they doing here?” Bilbo hissed to Gandalf in a low whisper, standing on his toes to make sure the other man could not miss his words.

“Well, come to the kitchen and we’ll tell you more.”

“Thorin!” Fíli and Kíli said to Thorin in unison and they stopped what they were doing to greet the older dwarf.

“This is our burglar,” Thorin said, gesturing to Bilbo, who still desired to be left out of the conversation, “though I daresay he looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” Fíli and Kíli laughed and Bilbo wished he wasn’t here anymore.

Thorin took a seat at the head of the table. Bilbo stood between him and Gandalf, not wanting to take a seat too. In his mind he somehow equated sitting down at the table with the dwarves to accepting everything that was unfolding before his eyes and he knew he was not okay with that.

“So what is it you actually want me to do?” Bilbo couldn’t help but blurt out. He knew this was his mind’s attempt to forget about the dinner at all. He wasn’t getting that perfect relaxed evening back, so he may as well get this evening over with as fast as he could, right?

No one responded at first, but Gandalf moved to pull something out from under his long coat. Bilbo couldn’t tell what he was doing until he saw Gandalf laying out a map across the table. Then Gandalf stuck his hand back into the inside pocket of his long coat and this time he pulled out a large key. Bilbo couldn’t help but appreciate the intricate detailing on the key, even though he had no idea why Gandalf thought this was important to show.

“Where did you get that?” Thorin hissed, slamming his fist on the table.

“Your father gave it to me,” Gandalf replied in a calm tone. “And it would serve you well to not let that temper loose right now.”

That seemed to appease Thorin. He slumped back into his seat and tried to loosen his expression towards a greater sense of calm. It seemed to be enough for Gandalf, for he moved right on with the conversation.

“Bilbo, look here,” Gandalf said, pointing to a certain spot on the map. Bilbo leaned onto the table as he stretched to see the details of the red ink on the map.

“The Lonely Mountain,” Bilbo read out.

“This is where we need to go,” Gandalf said, and then he moved the index finger on his other hand to point to something on the other side of the map. “And this is where we are now.” Bilbo couldn’t tell how far away this mountain was from Bag End, but he couldn’t imagine it was at all nearby if Gandalf felt it important to point out the distance in the first place.

“And why don’t we just go there already and take back the mountain?” Thorin snarled. “It is our home and it’s about time it is in the hands of the dwarves again.”

Bilbo’s mind began buzzing as he tried to put the pieces of the situation together with what little information he had on the table. So this Erebor was where Thorin came from? What did he mean to “take it back?”

But, almost as if Gandalf could read Bilbo’s mind, he motioned to explain. “Why don’t you tell Bilbo about why we’re here, then?” He asked Thorin.

Thorin furrowed his brow, feeling annoyed with having to explain. Or relive.

_Perhaps it was to relive something,_ Bilbo thought. It sounded like this was personal to Thorin.

“Erebor is my family’s estate,” Thorin said, starting off with his voice so soft and gentle that it sounded like little more than a natural humming of the house. “It’s a lovely mansion, until it was taken from us. Smaug. What he really wanted was our family heirloom, and he had to go and take the whole damn property just so he could have it.” There was a heavy pause in the room, and Bilbo realized this was all he was going to find out from Thorin. Bilbo knew there was more that Thorin wasn’t willing to share, but he didn’t even dare push for more beyond what Thorin was willing to tell.

Gandalf must have gotten the same impression from Thorin, for only another mere moment passed before he interjected, seeming to pick up right where he had left off without hesitation.

“That’s the gist of it,” Gandalf observed, his eyes still low to focus on the details of the map.

“But where do I come into this?” Bilbo found himself asking. He hadn’t even consciously thought about that part yet, but he knew it was coming. Why else had these men come into his house calling him a burglar? What did any of this have to do with him?

This was the moment Gandalf lifted his eyes from the map and his gaze now seared into Bilbo’s face. Bilbo did not flinch, knowing all too well the intimidating air Gandalf could put on when he felt like it.

“Well, it’s simple, really,” Fíli put in. This was the first time Fíli—or Kíli, who Bilbo assumed was likely to jump into the conversation now, for that matter—had spoken since Gandalf pulled out the map. “We need you to be our burglar of sorts. Gandalf has told our uncle Thorin that you can help us take back what is ours..”

This disrupted Bilbo’s concentration. “Wait, wait… You expect me to go into this estate with this supposedly dangerous man?” He raised his brow and looked to Gandalf, who still maintained a stone-cold, blank expression. Gandalf would not lend himself to emotions when he didn’t want to. “Do you expect me to be your burglar so I can go in there and get your family heirloom back or something? Is that what this is all about?” As he spoke Bilbo kept his stare laser-focused on Gandalf. He didn’t care about Fíli or Kíli or Thorin. None of them mattered in this moment. He didn’t even know them. It was Gandalf he knew. Gandalf from his old life, Gandalf who managed to sneak into his new life, Gandalf who always seemed to bring at least some ounce of trouble with him. This was not happening. This _could not_ be happening.

Not if Bilbo had a say about it.

“No, no, no!” Bilbo yelled. “I’m not doing this. Enough of this nonsense!” All the while, he kept his eyes on Gandalf, who still kept his eyes on him and kept his face appearing thoughtless. Bilbo didn’t care what the dwarves thought, he didn’t care when they would leave after this. He didn’t care about any of it.

He stormed out of the room, trying to keep his stomps as quiet as possible. He was infuriated by it all, but that did not mean he had to make any more a big deal out of it than he already had. He didn’t want to make a scene and he especially didn’t want any of his neighbors to hear any glimpse of his annoyance. He was going to stay quiet because that would be just the way he liked it.

***

Bilbo wasn’t sure for how long he stayed sequestered in his drawing room, hoping that the problem outside of this room would take care of itself. He settled himself in and lit a fire in the fireplace against the wall, hoping to pass the time with some relative peace.

He hadn’t heard the front door open again, so he knew Gandalf, Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli were all still in the house. He just didn’t know what came next.

Eventually, he heard a light rapping at the door. Before he could say anything—like telling whoever was on the other end outside to leave him alone—Gandalf had opened the door and slipped inside.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf said in a subdued tone and Bilbo turned to face him. He sounded as if he were completely unaware of everything that had transpired this evening, but he knew. He knew so much. That was why he was here in the first place.

“I don’t want to do it,” Bilbo insisted, crossing his arms. “I like my life here just the way it is. I don’t need some dwarves breaking down my door demanding to take me halfway across the world for the sake of helping them out. What good will that do me?”

“That’s not the youthful, adventurous Bilbo I once knew.”

“Well, that isn’t who I am now. I’m a Baggins of Bag End.” His voice cracked as if reminding himself and Gandalf of who he really was was a painful challenge. It shouldn’t have been this hard to stand his ground.

“That is true, but you are also a Took.”

Bilbo glared at Gandalf, not wanting to remember his mother in this moment.

Gandalf picked up the hint. “Like it or not, Bilbo, you’re still a Took. You still have that adventurous streak in you. In fact, you come from a long line of adventurous hobbits and you know it. Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t change anything about you deep down.

“I won’t try to push you tonight. But think about what I say. We’re going to be using your dining room for the night, but I promise we will be out by morning.”

Bilbo didn’t say anything to this. He stayed sitting in his chair, looking up at Gandalf. What could he say to that?

“Good night, Bilbo,” Gandalf said without giving a chance for Bilbo to interject. He paused, as though he were waiting for Bilbo to pipe in. “I won’t bother you again tonight, but I implore you to think twice about everything that’s happened.” Then he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. And then Bilbo was alone again.

***

Bilbo must have fallen asleep in the chair next to the fire in the drawing room because he woke up to the sun beginning to slip in from the windowsill at the opposite end of the room. It had been dark when he sulked in the previous night.

He woke up feeling a bit groggy, his vision blurred for a moment as he adjusted to the daytime from his deep state of sleep. After blinking a few times, Bilbo stretched his arms upward and rose from the chair. He had tried to remember what exactly happened last night. There were those two dwarves, Fíli and Kíli, and then Gandalf came, and then that other dwarf came. Thorin. That was his name.

Bilbo still felt a little delirious, the remnants of his stress from the previous night still lingering as he tried to shake it all off and stand up. He went for the doorway and turned the doorknob so he could go into the kitchen. The door swung out of place in a much more intense motion than Bilbo intended. It was so early that he didn’t feel quite in control of his movements yet. But he was confident that would get better with every step he took toward the kitchen. It was a usual part of his morning routine.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the dining room where the events of the previous night had transpired. But just from looking at it at a brief glance, Bilbo would not have even known what had happened the night before. For all he knew it could have been a dream considering how clean the kitchen and dining table were. At least Gandalf had held the dwarves accountable and made sure to clean up the mess.

That was when Bilbo remembered that he hadn’t eaten the night before, not with Fíli and Kíli helping themselves to his dinner. His stomach rumbled. It was quite improper for a hobbit to go this long without any food, but he didn’t feel quite up to preparing breakfast yet. He would get to that sooner or later, though.

Next Bilbo walked over to the entryway, where there was a small living room. If it could even be called that. It was just an armchair and a fireplace in the space between the front door and the kitchen. That was really all he had room for there.

But something was off. Bilbo could sense it like a sixth sense in the back of his mind. He blinked a couple times to adjust to the daylight peering in through the window behind him, and then he saw it. There was a small, folded-up piece of paper resting on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. That had not been there the night before. Bilbo made his way to open it, and that was when he realized it was a message left behind for him on top of a folded-up contract.

_Bilbo, If you change your mind about joining this quest, meet me at the Green Dragon by 10 o’clock in the morning._

_Gandalf._

The first thing Bilbo did was pull the contract out from under the note. He unfolded it to discover it was a long and elaborate thing, something he certainly wouldn’t have the time to read right now. There was simply too much to read all right now in this groggy state. He turned his head to look at the clock hanging above the dining room table at the other end of the space. It was already past 9. He couldn’t make out the exact position of the minutes hand, but he could tell it was past the thirty at the bottom of the clock. That meant he wouldn’t have much time to decide.

But he already knew what the answer to this predicament was. There was no way he was going to join this buffoonery.

Bilbo set the letter back down on the mantelpiece and crossed over to the kitchen. He opened the fridge as he mulled over what to eat for breakfast. But food was far from the front of his mind. Something had started gnawing away at him. A feeling that he would regret his decision if he just stayed put in this house and forgot all about Gandalf and the fact that he brought that Fíli and Kíli and Thorin into his house.

Gandalf had been right. There still was that bit of Took in him, whether he liked to admit it or not. He was a proud Baggins, but even he couldn’t change that about him.

Out of nowhere it seemed that the answer had come to him. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, but it was the clearest thing in his mind through and through.

He was going to go.

Without another thought, Bilbo slammed the door to the refrigerator shut and looked back at the clock above the table. The minutes hand was now approaching the forty-five and that meant he was running out of time. The Green Dragon was easily a ten-minute walk away if he hurried. And hurry he would have to.

He grabbed the contract off the mantelpiece where he had left it and grabbed a pen that was sitting out on the table. He found the spot again where he was supposed to sign and scribbled down his name. Then he made his way towards the door as he tried to push all thoughts out of his mind now. It felt like it was too late to go back as he reached for his coat and threw it on, not caring that he was still wearing the clothes from the day before.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo rushed down his street, forcing himself to continue avoiding the thoughts about what he was inevitably getting himself into with this spontaneous decision. It seemed as if he had chosen to forget bits and pieces about the conversation he had had with Gandalf and the dwarves the night before about what this quest had actually entailed, too. He told himself this wouldn’t be so bad, repeating it enough times that it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of the statement’s validity. Surely he would be alright. Surely this wouldn’t be so bad.

He looked over the contract as he walked. He gleamed from it something about earning one-fourteenth of the treasure of Erebor if the quest were to succeed— _Seems reasonable enough, I suppose,_ he thought—and at the bottom he saw Gandalf’s signature as a witness, with Thorin’s signature right above it. His signature sat in the spot below the both of them. The signature that committed him to this adventure, whether he liked it or not. It was too late to go back on his word now, though.

As he strained to recall what time it was, Bilbo had realized he had forgotten his pocket watch on his desk. What else had he forgotten in his haste to get out of the house as quickly as he could? He supposed that it would only be a matter of time before he found out what else he was so dependent on. He could imagine Gandalf telling him that he would just have to suck it up and deal with it because he would have to learn to live with a lot less. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t have a nice warm bed to crawl into every night for quite some time.

Then he reminded himself to get out of his head and keep up with his pace. He didn’t know what time it was so now time was even more of the essence. The Green Dragon really wasn’t _that_ far away, but he figured that he should at least try to be one time. If he didn’t make it in time, then that would be a matter to face in that moment, but he knew he shouldn’t try to sabotage himself now that he forced himself this far into the hole.

By the time he had managed to get himself to stop stewing with his own thoughts so much he had already made it to the inn. Either the walk didn’t take as long as he had anticipated or he had simply spent too much time in his own head. Still without his pocket watch he didn’t know what time it was, but that didn’t feel like it mattered anymore.

He swung the door out and walked into the inn, taking slow steps as he got a good look around. He knew about this place, but he didn’t come here much. He preferred to keep to himself and this seemed like the optimal place to only draw more attention to himself. It was a dimly lit building from the inside, with very few windows so there was a lack of natural light compensating.

It didn’t take long for Bilbo to spot Gandalf. Even sitting down the tall man stood out. Surrounding him at the table were Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli, all of whom were much shorter than Gandalf. Even though even they were taller than Bilbo—Bilbo who came from a family of very short-statured people—they were still not that tall in the most relative terms. Bilbo had been aware of these details when he first met them the night before, but the differences were more pronounced in broader daylight than under the faint glimmer of Bag End’s lighting.

Gandalf had spotted Bilbo across the room immediately. “Bilbo!” Gandalf shouted.

Bilbo made his way to the table and saw that the only open seat was next to Thorin. Bilbo felt a little uncomfortable sitting down, what with how he had snapped at these strangers only the night before. But he had already come all this way so there was no way for him to turn back now. With a sense of reluctance tugging at his thoughts, Bilbo pulled the seat out from under the table and sat down. He tried not to look at Thorin too much, so he didn’t know if Thorin was staring at him.

“You came,” Gandalf said, looking right at Bilbo as if there was no one else at the table.

“Yeah,” Bilbo stammered, surprised to find he was more out of breath than he would have thought he was. He hadn’t been gasping for breath. “And I signed it.” He pulled the contract out from his pocket and set it down on the table.

“We’re happy to have you,” Kíli said, his chipper voice booming.

“So what are we going to do to start?” Bilbo found himself saying, albeit in a quiet—and almost hesitant, though he tried to keep that feeling to himself—voice. That softness was more than just his being out of breath from running all the way here, but no one seemed to notice such a slight difference.

“Well, we need to return to Ered Luin to rejoin our friends and kin,” Fíli said. “Since Smaug took over the Durin estate our family has settled in Ered Luin in the mountains to the west along with all the other dwarves that are closely connected to our family.”

“Our friends and kin who have worked the mines of the Erebor estate for generations reside there, so they have been generous enough to take us in,” Thorin said. “It is not so much an estate as it is a group of homes all clustered together, but it is still quite nice enough and situated in the mountains.”

_Ered Luin,_ Bilbo thought. The name sounded familiar. He must have read it on a map somewhere in his drawing room. He had so many maps that he couldn’t keep track of all the places in Middle-earth. It was to the west, they said, so it had to be close, for the water was not that far off to the west beyond the borders of the Shire. Most of the maps Bilbo kept and referred to most often centered around the Shire specifically and not much farther beyond that.

“How far away is it?” Bilbo asked. Off the top of his head he couldn’t remember where it was. There was only so much land out to the west of the Shire before they hit water, so it couldn’t be too far.

“It is no more than a few hours’ drive,” Thorin said. This was the first time Bilbo turned to look at the man next to him. Thorin’s expression was dry and motionless. It didn’t lend much sense of emotion to his words. From the impression he had gotten the night before, he assumed that Thorin was a brooding man—one clearly full of resentment, too, from the way he spoke about Smaug—but that only told Bilbo so much.

“Very well, then, we ought to get going now. Ered Luin is only a few hours away but we ought to make sure we’re back before sundown.”

“Thorin has a van that’s big enough for all of us,” Fíli said, driving Bilbo back into focusing on the present moment. He had gotten so distracted first about Ered Luin, and then about the driving. It was all the little things piling up and cluttering his mind, drawing him away from what should have been the main focus in the moment. It was enough that he couldn’t already keep the thoughts from last night at bay, so this was just slowly becoming too overwhelming for him.

But he reminded himself that he came here and he would go through with this quest, whatever it entailed, even though he suspected he wasn’t going to like it. Why did he let Gandalf plant that seed of temptation in his mind?

“We need not waste more time just sitting around,” Gandalf interjected, rising from his seat. “You already have your burglar, so now let’s go.” Gandalf didn’t wait for a response. He turned away from the others and began walking away from the table.

Fíli and Kíli leapt out of their seats and followed. Thorin took a second longer but he too got up and followed Gandalf.

Bilbo heaved a small sigh as he stood from his seat. Unlike the dwarves, he was mindful to push his seat back into the table. It was small acts of decency like that that made the workers’ lives a little easier. Though the inn wasn’t that busy at that moment, the hobbits working here surely had more important things to do than push in chairs left astray.

For some reason they were all walking away from the front door, towards the back of the inn. Bilbo assumed that there had to be some sort of back door in this place. He hadn’t gone enough times to know the layout of the building very well at all.

Nobody turned around to make sure Bilbo was still following. In the back of his mind he thought about the fact that he could turn away and leave if he wanted to, that there was still a little bit of time to make a snap decision and change his mind about going on this quest. The others wouldn’t even know until it was too late. But he knew he wasn’t going to do that. There was a sense of determination tugging him forward. Especially after his conversation with Gandalf the previous day; still fresh in his mind was Gandalf’s mentioning of his mother the previous day. In spite of his best efforts to plunge the thoughts out of the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t help but think about how she would feel if she could see her only son in this situation.

Bilbo followed the dwarves and the wizard across the vicinity and followed them as they dipped into a tucked-away corridor at the other end of the clearing.

The corridor was dark and Bilbo’s mind wandered, thinking about if he was even supposed to be here. He bit his tongue, but he felt a bit uneasy about being here.

Luckily for him the corridor was short enough. Finally the men made it to the end of the corridor where Gandalf, at the front of the line, opened the door and stood aside to let the dwarves and the hobbit walk through. First Fíli, then Kíli, then Thorin. And then Bilbo. But Bilbo hesitated. He looked up to Gandalf. Gandalf didn’t say a word, but he nodded at Bilbo.

And then Bilbo walked through the door. He didn’t know when Gandalf followed until he heard the door slam shut behind him.

The door had led to an empty lot behind the building. From this angle the Green Dragon looked a lot less lively and a lot less welcoming. But that didn’t matter because all that was here was an alley, far away from the main streets of the Shire. It looked like it was only wide enough to fit traffic going one way. Someone had backed up a gray van down the alley, with the hood of the car facing outwards toward the street.

_This must be their transportation, then,_ Bilbo thought.

“Get in, then,” Gandalf said behind Bilbo. He looked at Thorin hopping into the driver’s seat of the van, Fíli beside him, and Kíli jumping into one of the open seats in the back.

“Aren’t you coming, too?” Bilbo asked, confused why Gandalf was still standing a few feet away from the van.

“Me? Oh, no. I have my own methods of transportation that aren’t as, well, cramped, I should say. Plus I have my own affairs I need to attend to today. I will meet you in the mountains later.”

Bilbo was a little unnerved at the idea of being alone with these dwarves. Gandalf felt the tiniest bit more familiar than them so Bilbo found something the least bit comforting about having him around in the midst of all this insanity.

But once again Bilbo had no choice but to go with the situation with the knowledge that all he had control over was reminding himself of just how little control he had in this situation. He didn’t like this, but he was the one who got himself into this situation so there was no getting out of it now.

Gandalf didn’t say a word. He just shook his head and Bilbo knew he had his answer. The wizard was so elusive like that. He turned away from Gandalf and walked the few feet towards the van. Pulling open the door, he reminded himself that he had already come this far, so he may as well keep going, thinking again of his mother, but not for long. Never for too long.

Bilbo jumped into the van without any further thought. He pulled the seatbelt loose from its spot and buckled himself in, not saying a word to any of the others.

Thorin turned his head around to make sure Bilbo was settled in. “So we’re ready to go, then?” He said to no one in particular. Without waiting for a response, he turned his head back towards the front and slid a key into the ignition. The engine revved loudly enough that it startled Bilbo.

“Is this car, er, safe to drive?” Bilbo asked. He couldn’t help but feel worried about being stuck in this car for a few hours, not knowing if it was going to give out at any moment.

“Of course it’s fine!” Kíli said, leaning over to give Bilbo a joking punch on the shoulder. Bilbo tried to smile back at Kíli, even though concern still lingered in the back of his mind. He tried to at least loosen the tension in his shoulders. Staying hunched and stressed out for however long this drive to Ered Luin was would do him no good.

_Here goes nothing,_ Bilbo thought, as Thorin moved the car into the drive shift and pulled out of the alley and back onto the main roads.


	3. Chapter 3

The drive through the Shire had not been so bad for Bilbo. In fact, he found it quite bearable. He underestimated Thorin’s driving abilities at first, preferring to mentally prepare himself for the worst. But Thorin’s driving turned out to be a lot better than Bilbo expected. He was cautious enough. Bilbo felt almost as comfortable driving with Thorin behind the wheel as he would on any old public transportation in the Shire. Almost. There was still a large enough seed of doubt in his mind that this could all derail at any moment.

But then Bilbo’s comfort seemed to vanish when they got to the “Now leaving the Shire” sign at the border between the Shire and the outside world. There the roads quickly deteriorated and the ride got a lot bumpier. It was quite uncomfortable for Bilbo, who was all too accustomed to the safe, paved roads in the Shire. Those roads were always well-kept, but Bilbo doubted these roads on the outskirts had ever been maintained since they were first constructed.

In spite of the changing conditions, Thorin remained as cautious as ever, if not more so now. The shambly roads were no fault of his own, but he adapted to the change seamlessly. After several minutes of bumping up and down to the uneven pavement, they started to approach the mountains.

“You’ll want to hold on tight, Bilbo,” Fíli said. “This is when the drive starts to get a bit rough.”

_Now_ the drive would get a bit rough? Bilbo worried about how bad it would be if this part of the drive was bad enough to warrant a warning. The roads outside the Shire were bad enough as it was.

“But once we get to the top of the mountain that’s the end of it,” Fíli added.

Kíli nodded in agreement. “We have a relatively secluded community built in this space high up in between the mountains. It’s perfect. You’ll see.”

“Well it’s a relief that there isn’t much left to the drive then,” Bilbo said, cracking a smile, trying to go along with the flow of the conversation. Fíli and Kíli seemed friendly enough and he may as well try to reciprocate that feeling if he was going to have to be stuck around them for a while.

“Yes and no.” Fíli laughed. “It’s still easily another hour and a half to get to the top of the mountain. It may not look like a super high mountain—and it certainly isn’t the tallest in Middle-earth—but the roads just wind around a lot of the mountain over and over again. It takes forever to go up or down.”

That made Bilbo’s heart sink, and he couldn’t stop his smile from starting to fade at clear discouragement at the sentiment. That was the kind of response he feared hearing. The unpaved roads outside of the Shire’s borders were bad enough, but this sounded even worse.

At first the uphill climb along the slope of the mountain wasn’t so bad. Bilbo didn’t take this as an opportunity to let his guard down, though. He could only imagine it would get worse, remembering the warning.

And get worse it did. The incline was never too steep, but that paled in comparison to the sharp turns that Thorin had to make. Those made everything feel all the more intense and in the worst way possible. Bilbo kept his eyes focused outside the window, even though watching all the curves coming up on the road did not ease his nerves. This was only more stressful for him because he did not consider himself to be one that got carsick easily. He could handle trains, which sped down the rails at speeds that would put Thorin’s van to shame, with no problem at all, and he hardly bat an eye at the buses that tackled the major streets in the Shire.

Only the sickness plaguing Bilbo seemed to get worse the longer this part of the drive stretched on. How long had Fíli said it would take? He couldn’t remember the exact number off the top of his head—not with all this clutter and stress piling up to his eyes—but it certainly felt like it was going to take too long for Bilbo’s liking.

He tried to swallow away his own discomfort and try to just look out the window and distract himself from everything reeling in his mind. At least the scenery outside the window was nice, once Bilbo could look beyond the fact that it was spinning around and around to the rhythm of Thorin’s van.

***

Bilbo felt like he had finally let go of the breath he had been holding when he looked out the window of the van and saw that they had reached a flat plateau at the top of the mountain. He heaved a sigh of relief. As soon as Thorin engaged the parking brake in the van, Bilbo rushed to unbuckle his seatbelt and flung the door on his side open, rushing out to gasp a deep inhale of the fresh air outside. Since they were at the top of a mountain, the air was a lot colder up there than it was down in the Shire, on lower ground, but after the journey to get up there, Bilbo didn’t care if the air was cold enough to burn his lungs. It was better than the recirculated, stale air in the car that felt like it was only getting warmer as more time passed.

Looking around, Bilbo saw there was a large, relatively flat rock by the parked van, wide enough for him to be able to sit down. He practically flung himself at the rock, relieved to be able to stretch his legs out in any direction he wanted and breathe in this relieving air. At least _that_ was all over.

Back at the car, Bilbo could see Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli all sliding out of their respective seats. Fíli and Kíli both ran to Bilbo once they were out of the van, while Thorin stood by the van for a moment longer. Bilbo swore he could almost see a smile streak across Thorin’s face, even from a distance. Or maybe he had imagined it, since he was sitting so far away.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you that the drive was rough,” Fíli said when he got to Bilbo, still smiling his playful smile as if nothing had happened. He took a seat next to Bilbo on the rock, which was wide enough for two people. Kíli, meanwhile, looked happy to stand. These dwarves seemed to embody the merry nature of hobbits, far from the temperament of dwarves as Bilbo had come to understand from observing Thorin. Everything he heard about dwarves in tales of his youth did not paint dwarves to be like this, but more like Thorin with his headstrong attitude and harshness to those he did not trust.

“I hope you’re ready for the drive back down the mountain,” Kíli said. “It’s more of that, and going downhill isn’t much better.”

Fíli laughed beside Bilbo, but Bilbo did not laugh. His heart sank, fearing that this wouldn’t even be yet the worst of his situation.

Across the clearing from where they had parked the car was a cluster of houses, none particularly small against each other, but all of them tiny in comparison to the mountainous landscape behind them. Bilbo assumed that they looked much larger up close, as opposed to at this great distance from where they had parked.

Bilbo stayed a few feet behind Fíli and Kíli as they all walked back towards the van where Thorin waited. He looked more impatient than Bilbo had seen when he first got out of the car. Bilbo guessed that he was in a hurry to move on and not sit idly here in Ered Luin, farther away from their final destination than they were in the Shire. He vaguely remembered the map they all looked at last night, showing Erebor far to the east.

It was in this moment walking across this clearing atop the mountain that Bilbo felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. He remembered that there were others that he was going to meet here. This was more than just following this man Thorin to wherever he wanted, all at Gandalf’s behest.

_Now it’s really too late to turn around and run back to Bag End,_ Bilbo thought, keeping his head low as he watched his feet take small, cautious steps, one foot in front of the other. The ground in front of him was level, so it wasn’t like he was trying to keep his feet steady lest he fall off one edge of the mountain; rather, he felt skepticism weighing him down and balanced the desire to fall into the feeling head-on and the urging to avoid the feeling entirely.

Bilbo lifted his head back up after several steps. It was mostly cloudy overhead. Thorin stopped in front of one of the houses and Fíli and Kíli ran to his side. They stopped at one house that stood in front of the other houses. Bilbo was still a few paces behind and resolved to maintain his pace. He simply didn’t want to rush himself to this end.

But it wasn’t much of a longer walk left. He made it to the others within a minute. As he had expected, the houses looked much more enormous up close, probably bigger than the small house Bilbo was used to in Bag End.

Thorin glanced over his shoulder to make sure Bilbo was behind him before digging into his pocket to pull out a key. Right away Bilbo noticed that it was not the same key that Gandalf had presented at the table the night before.

Thorin slipped the key into the keyhole and turned it to unlock the door. Then he put it back into his pocket and he swung it open so they could all go in first. Then Fíli and Kíli followed. Then Bilbo followed with no small amount of apprehension hinging in his mind.

The house opened into a wide front room. The house looked much bigger from the inside than it did from the outside, reminding Bilbo more and more of the Bag End that he had left behind. But the interior design lent no touch of a hobbitish eye to it. The aesthetic matched more of what Bilbo expected from a dwarvish dwelling, dark but not dank and rather warm and homey, actually.

There was no one in the front room, but Bilbo could see around the corner of the room that it led into a dining room. The end of a large table peered out from this side and Bilbo assumed there must have been several dwarves in that room, judging by the footsteps that started to echo into the front room.

A dwarf woman was entering this room and Fíli and Kíli were running towards her. She welcomed them into a huge embrace. _Their mother?_ Bilbo guessed. It was the most plausible explanation, since she looked closer to Thorin’s age than the boys’ age.

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo couldn’t tell who was calling his name, but he followed the sound of his name nonetheless. It was better to just go with the flow rather than draw too much attention to himself around these strangers. He didn’t want to think too hard about what a bunch of dwarves would think of him, but he had a feeling that it would be best to stay on their good side.

He followed the dwarves into the dining room, which turned out to be much more spacious than Bilbo would have guessed. It was at least double the size of the front room. Several of the dwarves in the room were standing—presumably following the lady dwarf’s lead into greeting the returning dwarves—but a few sat at the table. One of those sitting was a particularly fat dwarf with a long and thoroughly braided red beard.

“This is our mother,” Kíli said, now sitting down at the table next to his mother, with Fíli on the other side of her. She was a stout, collected woman. She looked a lot like Thorin, with her dark hair standing out in contrast to pale skin, but unlike Thorin she had dark eyes to match her hair.

“You can call me Dís,” she said with a polite smile. Bilbo had a better impression of her than Thorin already. She bowed to Bilbo and Bilbo, remembering the way Fíli and Kíli had introduced themselves to him the night before, bowed back. He assumed this was a customary thing in their family, so he figured he might as well try to be polite.

Then the man on the other side of Fíli spoke up. “I am Frerin,” the man said. “Dís is my sister and Thorin is our brother.” Frerin did not look as much like his siblings, but the resemblence was there on closer examination.

Fíli and Kíli’s relationship to Thorin explained why they were allowed to accompany him all the way to Bag End. There was no way that they would have been seen as responsible enough to handle that journey unless they had some sort of favor with Thorin, since he seemed to be the one in charge of this expedition to Erebor.

Bilbo already felt a little more comfortable with Frerin and Dís than he had with Thorin. He still wasn’t happy to be here, but he found Thorin’s siblings a lot more amicable than Thorin himself.

But these brief introductions only left more waiting for Bilbo.

Bilbo’s eyes moved down the line from Frerin. Next to him was a short dwarf with white hair and a long white beard to match. “My name is Balin,” the man said, bowing. “And this is my brother Dwalin.” He motioned to the man on the other side of him, a much larger dwarf, who looked years younger than his brother.

Next down the line of the table were Óin and Glóin, followed by Ori, Nori, and Dori, and then Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. By the time Bombur, the plump man with elaborate braids, finished introducing himself Bilbo had moved his eyes down the line of the table to meet Thorin’s eyes. Thorin was seated at the head of the table, on the other side of the room, the clear leader of this eccentric company of dwarves. His expression was still rather unmoving and unemotional.

Only a brief moment’s silence passed before Frerin spoke up. His voice was sharper than it was before, enough to make Bilbo jump in surprise, but he didn’t come off as harsh.

“Fíli, Kíli, why don’t you show Bilbo around the house?” He asked the two. Bilbo looked over and saw the young men’s eyes light up. Bilbo could tell that they had taken quite a liking to him in the less-than twenty four hours they had known him.

If anything, Bilbo liked the idea of some space from Thorin. It seemed like being around friends and family wasn’t enough to bring him out of his seemingly-eternal sulky mood.

Fíli and Kíli jumped out of their seats. Bilbo did the same, but he did not move as sharply or quickly. He didn’t see any point for them to rush; it just seemed like that was a necessary facet of their personalities.

***

The house was simple but elegant enough. What stood out to Bilbo was that there were very few windows in the whole house, but he didn’t point this out to Fíli and Kíli. They already seemed to have enough fun earlier joking with him about his carsickness. Now he wasn’t complaining about the lack of windows that prevented him from seeing out and remembering how high up on the mountains this house was.

However, Bilbo was right that he would enjoy the time away from Thorin. It was refreshing. He had no idea how much time he was going to have to spend with Thorin in the coming days anyway so he welcomed this break.

By the time Fíli and Kíli brought Bilbo back to the main room, the group had decided they were going to eat. It was the middle of the afternoon, so Bilbo thought it was a bit too early for dinner and a little too late for lunch, but he wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t eaten in about twenty-four hours, which was most unbecoming of a hobbit who ate meal after meal throughout the day.

The food was all made by Bombur. He recruited his brother Bofur and cousin Bifur—the latter of whom, Bilbo soon learned, could only speak in the dwarves’ language Khuzdul and through hand gestures—to help him bring out all the food to the table. Bilbo was surprised that Bombur had managed to prepare enough food for more than a dozen people in such a short time. But then again, shouldn’t he have learned by now to not jump to conclusions?

Bilbo took his seat back down at the same spot where had sat down earlier. Fíli and Kíli both took their seats on either side of their mother, just like they had earlier. Everything about the setting felt so familiar to Bilbo that if Bombur wasn’t placing a massive plate of pork in front of him, then he would have felt a pang of déjà vu.

Bombur and his brothers were quick setting the table. It was only a few minutes before they finished and everyone could start helping themselves. In this moment Bilbo remembered that he hadn’t eaten in an entire day and the consequences of that began to sink in. How timely it was that his stomach began to start grumbling so aggressively right then. So much had happened that hunger had been the last thing on Bilbo’s mind, but now with food right in front of him, it was like he jogged his own memory.

At the other side of the table, Ori and Nori began to fill their plates with some meat that Bilbo couldn’t identify from across the table. All around the table everyone else started to do the same, so Bilbo joined in.

The first bite blew Bilbo away. He thought it might have been because he hadn’t eaten in too long, that just being able to eat anything felt amazing. And that was certainly true, until he went in for a second bite and still felt the same degree of amazement with the food on his plate. Bombur deserved credit, especially for how fast he had prepared all this food.

Over the meal the dwarves began to talk about the upcoming quest to Erebor. Bilbo wished that they could just avoid the subject for a bit, but he knew better than to hope to avoid the inevitable. It was in this conversation that Bilbo found out that many of the company at the table—to be more specific, everyone except Dís and Frerin—would accompany Thorin on this journey. Bilbo didn’t even think to be overwhelmed by the idea of a dozen extra men on this quest. How would those logistics even work? It didn’t matter to Bilbo, who was grateful to have more support against Thorin’s wily attitude.

“When are we leaving?” Kíli asked the group, talking to no one in particular.

“As soon as we can,” Dwalin said.

“It’s imperative that we get as much of a head start as we can,” Balin mentioned. “Especially because we’ll have to go through the Shire to continue heading east. Gandalf said he would meet us somewhere along the way, but the sooner we can meet up with him, the better.”

Hearing about the Shire made Bilbo perked up. “If we’re going through the Shire, would it be possible for us to stop at my house so I can pack some stuff?” Thorin raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “What kind of stuff?”

Bilbo gulped, his mind drawing a blank now that he was on the spot. “Er, like my handkerchief.” His voice was a lot softer this time.

Thorin snorted. “A handkerchief? You think that’s important enough to make a stop in the Shire?” Everyone began to laugh. Bilbo tried to force a smile because at the very least, it wasn’t a malevolent laugh. They weren’t trying to make a mockery of him.

“Oh, lad, you’re bound to learn to survive on a lot less than your fancy things like _handkerchiefs_ ,” Bofur laughed.

Bilbo waited for a moment of silence to pass before he tried to jump into conversation again. This time he turned to Dís. “Why aren’t you coming?” Bilbo asked, trying to make more polite conversation.

“Frerin and I wanted to stay here with the rest of the dwarves. All of our family and friends are here and it would be good for us to help out with them while you all are away.”

Bilbo didn’t push this line of conversation further because he knew that would teeter into the territory of discussing the quest that Thorin seemed so apprehensive about. He didn’t want to get on Thorin’s bad side by asking too many questions.

For the rest of the meal there were no massive conversations like the one about the quest, just smaller conversations on the side every now and then. Bilbo didn’t mind it. This was the most quiet he had gotten since he left Bag End and he was more than happy to welcome it at this moment. Who knew if moments like this would be few and far between with such a large company of dwarves.

But then his demeanor changed once the meal concluded.

Fíli and Kíli both jumped on the table— _on_ the table? Bilbo couldn’t even fathom thinking that was an acceptable thing to do—and started grabbing plates. They took turns tossing them to each other and then they started a pile to stack up all the plates on the other end of the table. All around the table, everyone except Bilbo began cheering them on by holding onto their forks and knives. And they started throwing the knives.

_Throwing the knives!_ Bilbo thought, his heart beginning to race with discomfort and fear. _They’ll blunt them!_ He forced himself to keep these thoughts to himself, since he was their guest and it would be rude to question their own ways, even if he thought them heinous.

And they kept on going, much to Bilbo’s terror. This was unlike anything he had ever seen. Did they not think about if they would accidentally smash some of their perfectly fine glassware? It seemed all too likely a prospect when they were using it like this.

Once they ran their course playing with their utensils and plates, Bilbo saw that everything had been stacked up in neat piles in front of Bombur. Everyone was cheering at the success of this effort. And then Bifur and Bofur started helping Bombur clear everything from the table and bring it back to the kitchen.

“Come on,” Fíli said to Bilbo as he stood up. “We’ll go start a fire in the other room and sit around that.”

The fire was harmless enough. Certainly an improvement over how they cleared the table.

Bilbo kept to himself a bit as the others talked amongst themselves. The fire reminded him of the night before, sitting by himself in the drawing room in front of the fire, wondering what the hell had happened in his life that would lead him to this moment.

***

Everyone talked among themselves until the fire completely vanished and the embers that remained had no glow left in them.

By this point it must have been late for sure, for at some point everyone had gotten up and Bilbo assumed it was to retire.

“Come with us, Bilbo,” Fíli said, trying to give him some direction in the otherwise confusing wave of movement, “and we’ll show you where you can sleep. We have an extra mattress in our room.”

It didn’t sound like much, but Bilbo had no choice but to agree so he followed Fíli and Kíli into their room. Sure enough, as Fíli had promised, there was a spare mattress on the floor next to the bed, where he assumed the brothers would be sleeping.

“I know it’s not much,” Kíli said, “but hopefully you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight. Our uncle is probably going to cause a storm first thing tomorrow morning trying to get everyone ready to go.”

“It’s fine, thank you,” Bilbo mumbled as he settled onto the mattress. Like with his hunger earlier, he hadn’t realized the full extent of his physical exhaustion until he laid back onto the mattress. It was a rather stiff mattress, but it still felt like such a significant improvement to rest his aching bones on _something_ besides even stiffer car seats, stiffer chairs, and stiff _everything_.

It didn’t take Bilbo long to find a comfortable position and try to doze off into a sleep. It wasn’t going to be a long night.

As Bilbo closed his eyes, he realized that this moment was the first time in a long time that he had thought about his father.


	4. Chapter 4

The night passed so quickly for Bilbo that it felt like he had barely gotten more than a few minutes’ worth of sleep before he was being jostled awake by Kíli. He hadn’t thought that the mattress would be quite _that_ comfortable.

“Just a minute,” he grumbled while still half-awake. That seemed to be enough for Kíli to back off. He took his time opening his eyes and adjusting to the light. This room had more light than most of the house, with one window open, even on a completely overcast day like that day.

It took a minute longer for him to start sitting up, but by the time he did he felt a little more awake and ready for whatever day lay ahead of him. Looking up, he saw Fíli standing above him.

“We’ll be at the table waiting for breakfast,” Fíli said. “Take your time, but don’t take too long. Thorin won’t want to wait around for you.”

***

Bilbo meandered out of the room after a few minutes by himself. When he took his seat at the table, he was relieved to see that about half of the company was still not awake yet. At least Thorin’s potential fury wouldn’t be directed at him for taking too long in the morning.

Of course Thorin was one of those who was already awake. He stood in the corner, silent and separate from the others who were also at the table.

“Good morning, Bilbo,” Balin said as Bilbo sat down at the table.

“Good morning,” Bilbo responded, trying to raise his voice because his throat was dry so he thought talking at his usual volume would come out as little more than a croaking noise.

***

Breakfast was a quiet meal, but Bilbo still felt satisfied by the meal itself. It didn’t feel like home by any stretch, but he did take some comfort in the small familiarity of it. It wasn’t too much unlike the dinner he had had the previous night.

Thorin was itching to head out of Ered Luin by the time Bombur cleared the last dish from the table. Nobody else felt quite so ready, though.

“We can wait just a little bit,” Balin hissed. Bilbo had gathered that Balin seemed like the one who wasn’t afraid to stand up to Thorin in a way that none of the others did. Everyone else seemed like they would consistently defer to Thorin’s judgement. From snippets of the conversations going on last night, Bilbo gathered that Balin was one of Thorin’s cousins, so naturally as family he would be a little more bold with his own.

Thorin glared at Balin out of the side of his eye, but he seemed to back off after that.

It only took a few minutes for Bombur to ascend from the kitchen and return to the table where everyone else waited.

“Alright then,” Thorin said, standing up. “We should pack to leave now. We need to leave while the daylight is still out. We have a long way to go.” With that, he walked out of the room.

“You ought to get your belongings ready,” Fíli leaned over to say to Bilbo. “Thorin isn’t going to want to wait any longer. He gets so impatient about this quest so it’s best to just go with it as best as you can.”

“That’s okay,” Bilbo said. “I should be ready to go in just a few minutes.” He rose from the table and began to head back to his room. He could hear Fíli and Kíli trailing behind a few moments later.

When he got to the room, it felt a lot more cramped than it had the night before. Not that it mattered. All he had to do was gather his things—a rather easy step because he did not have a lot of stuff—and then head right back out.

The room felt even tighter once Fíli and Kíli came in, but thankfully Bilbo only had a moment’s overlap sharing the room with them. He ran right out as fast as he could. He moved faster down the hallway this time, back to the main room, and he even found himself letting out a small sigh of relief. He couldn’t figure out quite why he was a little happy to be leaving Ered Luin, but he supposed it was because it would be nice to get over the drive back down the mountain a little faster.

When Bilbo came out of the house, he felt overwhelmed by how bright everything outside felt. He blinked to let his eyes to adjust to the light faster and once he did, he looked over to where Thorin stood across the rocks and noticed that Gandalf was with him. Then he remembered that Gandalf had promised to meet up with them at the mountains. Bilbo made his way over to where they stood, not noticing that Fíli and Kíli were clamoring out of the mountain along with all the others.

“It’s good to see you’re still in one piece, Bilbo,” Gandalf said when Bilbo was close enough to hear over the echo of the mountains.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” Bilbo found himself asking, not sure of what else to say. That was something tugging in the back of his mind, a thought he didn’t bother addressing up until now. Gandalf was a wizard and wizards had their own affairs here and there to deal with.

“As I told you, I had other business to attend to,” Gandalf said, his voice calm in spite of the potential accusatory nature of Bilbo’s question. “Now that that’s taken care of, though, I shall see you all the rest of the way to the Lonely Mountain.”

The rest of the company came out of the mountain, all in such a loud clamber that it made Thorin look over. Gandalf kept his gaze focused and didn’t flinch at the sudden influx of sound echoing around the mountain range.

“Gandalf!” Bofur yelled, coming over to where Gandalf and Bilbo stood.

“It’s good to see you, Bofur,” Gandalf replied.

“Where are we off to first?” Bofur asked, looking between Gandalf and Thorin for some guidance.

“I think perhaps we ought to go to Rivendell,” Gandalf said. “The elves could be more help than you might think. It would do us well to ensure that Lord Elrond is on our side.”

That turned Thorin’s resting frown into a dark scowl.

“Never,” Thorin hissed. “I would never want to turn to _them_ for help.”

“Then might you suggest a better way to go? What other options do you think you have? You have to drive through the area to make it all the way east, so why not stop along the way in the house of Elrond, who might actually be on your side if you stopped to be nice to him?”

That brought Thorin pause. Everyone knew the silent answer nonetheless. Thorin didn’t have another suggestion, but that didn’t mean he was willing to bend to Gandalf’s suggestion either. Such was Thorin’s apparent stubbornness.

A moment passed. “Well, what are you going to do Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, assuming that Gandalf was going to pass on riding in the van again.

“Me? I shall take my own way down the mountains later in the day. I’ll meet up with you later, once you’ve decided on a way to go.” Out of the corner of his eye, he glared at Thorin, clearly frustrated with Thorin’s refusal. He didn’t try to make those feelings a secret.

This response startled Bilbo, but no one else seemed to be phased by Gandalf’s words. It was one thing to come up to Ered Luin without Gandalf, but still equipped with the knowledge that he was going to meet up with them soon enough. But to go off into the world without Gandalf as a guide at all? Was he really going to let them loose like this?

Gandalf waved away the others and made his way into the mountain. Bilbo watched him duck his head at the door and slide away into the tunnel. Meanwhile, the others began packing up their things into the van. Bilbo didn’t understand how they were going to fit everyone into one van, considering how many people Thorin expected to accompany him. But Thorin was already in a sour enough mood from this encounter with Gandalf, so Bilbo heaved a sigh and sulked to the van, his items in tow.

***

Driving down the mountains turned out to be a lot worse than going up had been. The twisting and turning drive was already bad enough, but sure enough, as Bilbo had feared, Thorin had managed to squeeze everyone into the seats of the van. It was like a puzzle of piecing together who could fit where in the midst of their items. It was a miracle that everyone had packed light, otherwise it would have been nigh but impossible for this task to be feasible. Bilbo didn’t even want to think about how much of a safety issue this arrangement would be. It was better that way because he knew he still wasn’t in a place to protest. The back seats were loud with the booming voices of the other men, but in the front passenger’s seat was Fíli and Thorin in the driver’s seat, where both parties remained silent.

Bilbo felt a sense of relief at the sheer amount of noise in the back of the van. Somehow he used it to his advantage to tune out his own motion sickness, which balanced out the rest of the discomfort he felt that wouldn’t go away.

***

As the day progressed, Bilbo had adjusted, bit by reluctant bit, to the new circumstances of this situation. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have stayed put in Bag End if he knew leaving would come to this.

Bilbo couldn’t keep track of where the van took them over the course of the day. He was smaller than everyone else so he was sandwiched in the middle seat of the van, squished in between everyone and thus unable to look out the windows.

Eventually, the van came to a stop and the men began to tumble out of the back doors. By the time Bilbo got a glimpse of the outside world, he saw the sky was beginning to turn a faint, pretty shade of pink. The sun was setting. How long had they been driving?

Climbing out of the car, Bilbo took a thorough look around the clearing where they had parked the van. There was nothing around in any direction that he could see. They had stopped on the edge of a forest and Bilbo assumed that it was far east beyond the borders of the Shire.

But there was no pause from anyone else to take in the moment. Everyone else began pulling their belongings out of the van and setting up camp for the night. Only Bilbo took this pause.

The men began singing, a low singing, as they moved. It was all in conjunction and it made Bilbo feel like an outsider onlooking at an intimate moment among the company.

But then Bilbo blinked and remembered that he had his own things still tucked away somewhere in the back of the van. He turned around to pull his own things out and then he joined everyone else already unpacking their things.

Bombur had managed to pack a lot of food into his bag, enough to at least last this night. Bilbo was relieved that Bombur had prepared, realizing that his stomach was now grumbling. Packed into the car for the entire day meant that he hadn’t eaten since that large breakfast that morning. A good meal would be a welcome change of pace, even though it only would last for the time being.

Bombur took his time preparing the food while everyone sat around a fire they had just started. As the minutes passed Bombur began to finish preparing the food and began passing around shares of the ration to everyone. Bilbo took his share with enthusiasm, thankful to finally have some good food to hold him over for the night. The rest of the company began to enjoy the meal around him as well and there was an air of serenity that Bilbo had not felt in the last several days.

***

The men stayed awake in a merry frenzy even after night fell. The moon rising into the sky made Bilbo feel sleepy, but none of the dwarves tried to go to sleep until the last embers of the fire burned out. Bilbo hadn’t bothered trying to fall asleep before then, knowing that the noise would keep him awake no matter how hard he tried to reach for sleep. Though he stayed awake, he was anything but the center of attention.

As the dwarves readied themselves for sleep, Bilbo anticipated they would only have a short night’s slumber.

“We leave at the first light of dawn,” Thorin said.

Bilbo didn’t understand Thorin’s sense of such urgency. What was the rush? It was so unlike his hobbitish nature to be hasty like this, but he certainly wouldn’t protest against Thorin’s demand. The dwarves deferred to Thorin as their leader—and Bilbo supposed he understood that, since this was his family’s estate they were journeying to—so why would it be Bilbo’s place to question his unspoken but well-understood authority? Besides, Thorin seemed to have enough skepticism about bringing a hobbit along on the quest, so Bilbo did not want to add fuel to that fire.

As Bilbo settled onto the grass, he realized the weight of the exhaustion he had been carrying. It was all of the exhaustion from that day, but there was still lingering exhaustion from the previous day as well. The grass was by no means a comfortable mattress suited for a good night’s rest, but the release of tension that came with laying back on it made it a suitable arrangement given the circumstances. Bilbo was sound asleep in a matter of minutes.

But he did not sleep for long.

Bilbo began to have his first dream of the night, but there was no way he was going to remember it because he jolted awake to the sound of screaming. He initially rose in a blur, but upon realizing that the screaming was not only real but also coming from close to him, he jumped, full consciousness overwhelming his system.

Around him, the other dwarves stirred, all of them also awoken by the same piercing screams.

It didn’t take long for Bilbo to realize why.

Standing above all of them were three enormous trolls. And one of them was holding Kíli.

Bilbo had heard of trolls from tales he read as a child. They were angrier and uglier than Bilbo imagined them in the stories. What were they doing here, and why had they grabbed Kíli? Whatever the reason, it couldn’t be good.

Then another thought crossed Bilbo’s mind. How had all of them slept through a band of trolls stomping right up to their encampment? The trolls had big and meaty limbs and a weak sense of balance. However they got here, it wouldn’t have been a quiet entrance. But there was no time to dwell on that because they had Kíli and who knew what they wanted to do with the rest of them.

Bilbo tried to tune out the flurry of noise. The dwarves were shouting, Thorin the loudest among them, but the trolls seemed to pay no mind to their cries of protest as they grumbled amongst themselves, their words unintelligible. There would be no reasoning with them. If they were hungry they would prepare to hold each of them over the fire to cook them to perfection. This wasn’t a fair match: thirteen dwarves and a hobbit didn’t stand much chance up against three angry trolls. Especially because they already had Kíli captive and could use him as a tool for bargaining.

_So much for this adventure, right?_ Bilbo thought.

Just as Bilbo felt as though they would have to resign to defeat, he saw Gandalf making his way across the clearing. Gandalf who had prior abandoned them was now returning. Flooded with reassurance about their predicament, Bilbo dared not move, hoping he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. The trolls had now fixed their focus on the dwarves and especially on Thorin since they were the ones speaking out to defend Kíli.

But Gandalf’s arrival was what diverted their attention. They dropped Kíli and turned to face the wizard now approaching them from the opposite direction. Kíli picked himself up off the ground in a haste and sprinted straight towards his brother.

With the trolls’ backs to the Company now, it was hard to see Gandalf among them, but Bilbo strained his neck to catch some sight of him. He wanted to know what was happening.

He only caught sight of the gray wizard for a second, but he could see him pulling out a pouch from his cloak. Bilbo couldn’t get a better look, but he guessed it was a coin pouch. Was Gandalf going to _bribe_ their way out of this?

But it was also at this moment that Bilbo saw the sun start to peer over the horizon. The night had been short just as he had anticipated after all. He recalled the tales of trolls from his childhood again. He swore he remembered something about sunlight turning trolls to stone. The information was twisted up in his memory, blurring the line between fact and fiction, so there was no way he could know if that had been true or not.

Bilbo couldn’t hear what Gandalf was saying to the trolls, but it seemed to be enough to keep them here for a moment longer. The dwarves whispered among themselves, but their hushed voices felt like a normal volume to Bilbo as opposed to the sound of someone wanting to keep quiet so they wouldn’t be overheard. The trolls made no indication of hearing them, though, but the fear of the trolls’ volatility kept everyone rooted in their place. No one could guess what would happen if one of them tried to run away and it wasn’t a risk they were willing to take.

Gandalf seemed to be buying time by keeping the trolls talking, probably about how they wanted to cook the dwarves because that was what the trolls were interested in the most. Staying a moment longer turned into a minute longer and a minute longer brought the sun over the horizon. It was enough to turn the trolls to stone right in their place.

Gandalf tapped one of the trolls with his staff, chuckling to himself with satisfaction.

There was a brief pause before the dwarves roared in applause, all of them running for Gandalf in thanks. All of them except Thorin, who remained a few steps behind everyone else.

“I see the quest has been going well in my absence,” Gandalf retorted, speaking to all of them but all the while eyeing Thorin specifically.

Thorin hesitated, but then moved forward so he was closer to Gandalf. Bilbo trailed toward the wizard too, not wanting to appear the odd one out lingering behind the rest.

“Might I ask where you’ve been?” Thorin asked.

“I was merely scouting out the road ahead.”

“And what brought you back?” “It was looking behind, and it’s a good thing I did, too.”

Now Fíli spoke up. “How did you know it would work? Er, this…” He gestured to the stone-cold trolls.

“Because it’s impossible for trolls to move in daylight. They could only move under the cover of darkness.” So Bilbo had remembered that piece of information right.

“And the bribe?” Bilbo remarked. “I saw you were going to bribe them with gold to leave us, were you not?”

“Leave it to trolls to covet gold. They intended you all to be their dinner, but they couldn’t say no to more gold to add to their hoard. I was hoping the bribe would be enough to get them to part with their potential feast.”

“There has to be a cave nearby,” Thorin said.

***

They waited until the sun came up a little more before they looked for a cave. It didn’t take long to find a dugout along the hillside, plenty large enough for everyone to fit into it.

The trolls’ cave was somehow even fouler than the trolls themselves. The first thing Bilbo noticed about the cave was the foul stench that filled the air. It was such an embedded part of the scenery that Bilbo couldn’t imagine anything else here without that smell permeating. He stayed nearer to the entrance so he could still inhale some of the relieving fresh air as gusts of wind brought some refreshment into the cave. He couldn’t fathom how Gandalf and some of the other dwarves were able to wander deeper into the cave and be able to at least tolerate the smell all along the way.

He ventured to take a few steps deeper into the cave, but that was all he could muster. The stench became too overpowering too quickly and there was no way Bilbo was going to willingly subject himself to any more of that.

From the distance he saw Thorin and Gandalf shine a flashlight over a couple swords sticking out amongst all of the gold piled up on the ground. They each took a sword and pulled them out of their scabbards to admire the craftsmanship that went into the blades. They were enormous and eloquent.

“These blades are of Elvish make,” Gandalf said.

Thorin’s expression of intrigue looking over the blade turned to a scowl and he began to push it back into the scabbard until Gandalf added, “You could not wish for a finer blade.” Thorin paused and pulled it all the way out of the scabbard to appreciate all of the work that went into forging this sword. Gandalf was pulling the cobwebs off of the sword he had grabbed.

Thorin started to move back towards the mouth of the cave so Bilbo turned on his heel to make his way out of the cave. He was ecstatic to be able to breathe in the crisp and clean air outside once again without having to feel like he had to hold his breath so he wouldn’t pass out from the smell of the cave.

“Bilbo!” Gandalf called and Bilbo turned around just as the wizard ascended from the mouth of the cave. “Here, this should be your size,” he said as he handed a much smaller sword towards Bilbo.

Bilbo tried to refuse the sword—he didn’t want this, so why was Gandalf giving it to him?—but Gandalf handed it to him, adamant. “I should hope you never have to use it, but it would be good for you to have it on you just in case,” the wizard said.

Bilbo pulled this sword out of the scabbard and saw that it had a similar intricate design on its body like the larger blades that Gandalf and Thorin discovered. This too must have been a blade of ancient Elvish make.

“Where are we going now?” Fíli asked. Bilbo turned around to rejoin the others, realizing he was the one lingering behind in the moment where his eyes were transfixed on this sword Gandalf presented him.

Bilbo’s eyes darted to Thorin to see how he would respond. After all, he was the one who started the row with Gandalf over what they should do, so Gandalf had been right that they had ended up here without his guidance.

Finally, Thorin rose from the ground. “I suppose we could benefit from having you around,” he grumbled. He was reluctant to swallow his pride like this, but he didn’t make an extra effort to say so quietly. Everyone could hear him. After all, it was Gandalf who saved them from the trolls, Gandalf who ultimately saved their lives in that encounter. Who knew what would have happened had he not been there to intervene. There was no denying how much they needed Gandalf’s help in that moment.

Raising his voice, Gandalf said, “Perhaps Lord Elrond would provide some safety away from the rogue _trolls_ that you would encounter out in the open like this.” Gandalf smirked.

“Fine, we’ll go with your plan,” Thorin huffed. They all knew he wasn’t going to get out of it this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo was glad that it was already morning because he knew there was no way he was going to be able to sleep after everything that had just happened. It was all whizzing around in his mind, leaving him in a bit of a daze, but not one so strong that it would be able to knock him out. He was going to have to stay awake and suffer through whatever discomfort came his way.

Bilbo didn’t know the way to Rivendell. He thought the name sounded familiar from one of his maps, but his memory was fuzzy on the geography of the world beyond the Shire. Through and through, the Shire was the place he knew best.

“You might also know it as Imladris,” Gandalf said when Bilbo asked. “That’s what the elves call it. In the common tongue it is known as Rivendell.”

Bilbo thought the name Imladris also sounded familiar, but he didn’t think on it anymore. His thoughts were going nowhere.

“Go now, Thorin’s surely waiting on all of you now. He knows the way so he should be able to get you there in one piece.”

Thorin made sure the dwarves started to pile into the van. Remembering how Thorin said he wanted to leave at dawn, Bilbo supposed it was well-past time to go. Who knew just how antsy Thorin was getting at the idea of waiting around any longer. They already spent more time in this area than he would have liked. Bilbo climbed into the an, back into his usual spot at the center of the back seats. Thorin would be able to get everyone there without Gandalf’s help, even though doing so went against everything he wanted to do in that moment.

***

Rivendell was not that far a drive away. It was an hour or two in the van at the most. The roads along this path were in a lot better condition than those in the unincorporated land between the Shire and Ered Luin, but they still weren’t up to the high standards of Shire roads. These roads must not have been in use a lot. There were few who traveled this way.

Rivendell proper was an elaborate estate. The house was a large mansion at the edge of a massive clearing. The clearing was a field tucked between mountains, but it did not feel so open and aimless like the field where they encountered the trolls. In the middle of this clearing was a cobblestone path that led to the front doors of the mansion, giving all of the scenery a sense of purpose in its greater picture.

Thorin parked the van at the edge of the estate, not far from where the path began. They took slow steps along the path. They barely made it a few feet before Gandalf joined them, taking the lead for the rest of the way to the front doors.

The front doors swung open once they got close, as if their host were expecting their arrival. On the other side of the doors stood a tall, dark-haired elf.

_This must be Lord Elrond, then,_ Bilbo thought.

“Mithrandir,” the elf said. “ _Mae govannen_.”

“It is good to see you as well, Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said.

Then Elrond’s eyes moved past Gandalf. “What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Rivendell?”

Thorin continued to eye Elrond with suspicion, his expression unrevealing. But Bilbo was starting to get better at reading Thorin’s emotions, even though he wanted to keep hidden from just anyone.

“We were passing through,” Gandalf spoke up, “and we encountered a band of trolls along the way. Are you aware that trolls were so close to your borders?”

Elrond raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware.” He looked troubled by this news, but did not press the subject any further. Then he started to speak in Sindarin. Bilbo noticed how much this enraged the dwarves, who clearly did not understand a single word. They readied to defend themselves as though Elrond posed a threat.

“What is he saying?” Glóin growled.

“He is offering you food,” Gandalf said. That appeased the dwarves.

“Well, in that case, that’s quite alright then.”

Elrond stepped aside so everyone could come inside. They all piled in. Gandalf let everyone in first and Bilbo trailed behind so he was the last one in before Gandalf.

The interior of the house was lavishly decorated, but also rather minimal in design. Bright lights dominated the scope of the room, lending a liveliness to the room in an orangeish-yellow hue that Bilbo found comforting. To the left was a large staircase that made the house feel larger with the awareness of the upstairs and to the right, the ground floor expanded with a corridor to connect it to the entryway.

Elrond led everyone down the corridor. It was open and wide, but not so much that it felt overwhelming. The corridor was lit with the same aura as the entryway, giving it the same impression of home that Bilbo felt in the entryway. It was quiet but not so quiet that the silence engulfed everything else. At the end of the hallway was an enormous, elaborate dining room. The dining room had a long table at the center with more than enough seats for the entire Company.

At the opposite end of the dining room was a door that presumably led to the kitchen. An elf emerged from the swinging door and, without paying attention to the rugged band of dwarves, spoke to Elrond in Sindarin. After a brief back-and-forth, the elf returned to the kitchen.

“Please, sit,” Elrond said, gesturing to the table. “The food will be ready soon.” He took a seat at the head of the table. Gandalf sat next to Elrond on one side, Thorin on the other. Bilbo ended up between Balin and Thorin.

Judging from the position of the sun while they were outside, it had to be around midday, so Bilbo thought it was the optimal time for a meal. He felt particularly drained and hungry after the events of the night. Bombur knew how to make a good meal out of the rations they traveled with, but it would only hold them over for so long, so it was about time for more food by Bilbo’s standards.

The elves were quite efficient at preparing their meals. Bilbo hardly had to wait more than a matter of minutes for the food to be ready. Multiple elves began to pour out of the kitchen, all of them carrying various bowls. The table was already set with a bowl and utensils at every seat. The bowls the elves brought out all contained fresh greens and they distributed these bowls across the table.

Bilbo looked around the table and saw the dwarves’ discomfort with the idea of eating salads. It was like none of them had ever seen a green vegetable in their lives. Looking back on the prior meals he shared with the dwarves, Bilbo supposed it made sense: they ate entire meals of just meat and bread. He had always been so hungry come mealtime that he never stopped to think about the notable lack of vegetables. Even if he had, he would have thought it more out of convenience rather than attributing it to an aversion to an entire food group.

Across the table, Bilbo saw Ori and Dori mumbling to each other.

“Do they actually eat these leaves?” Dori questioned, and then he looked over at his younger brother who eyed his food with suspicion. “Come on, just eat one.”

“But I don’t like green food.”

“Where’s the meat?” Dwalin asked a little louder, sifting through the bowl of greens in front of him.

If Elrond took offense at the dwarves questioning the elves’ choice of food, he made no indication of it. Instead of paying them any mind, he looked over to Gandalf, who must have mentioned the swords they found in the troll cave because he pulled out his own sword.

Elrond took the sword and examined the craftsmanship. “This is Glamdring,” he said. “The Foe-hammer.”

Gandalf pushed Thorin to present his sword for identification as well. Thorin was reluctant, but he didn’t put up much of a fight against it, no matter how much apprehension he probably felt in his mind. Elrond handed Glamdring back to Gandalf and took Thorin’s sword as the dwarf handed it over.

“This is Orcrist,” Elrond said as he looked over Thorin’s sword. “Both of these were forged in the old days of Gondolin by my kin. How did you find them?”

“We found them in a troll cave,” Gandalf said. “They had to set up camp in a cave not far from where we found them because they were drifting out of the mountains, so they couldn’t move by day and had to find a place to stay during the day.”

As Gandalf and Elrond further discussed the Company’s encounter with the trolls, Bilbo pulled his own sword out of its scabbard. He looked it over, but kept it under the table and out of sight.

“I wouldn’t bother, laddie,” Balin said, startling Bilbo even though he kept his voice hushed. Bilbo hadn’t realized he was that fixated on his sword. “Swords are named for the great deeds they’ve seen in battle.”

“Are you saying my sword hasn’t seen battle?”

“I don’t even know if it’s a sword at all, really. It’s more like a letter opener.”

Bilbo frowned as he tucked the sword back into its scabbard, stealing one more glance at it before he forced himself to return to the present moment of the meal.

***

At the end of the meal, Elrond brought up the inevitable question again. “So, tell me. What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Rivendell?”

“It’s simple,” Thorin said, his tone surprisingly civil given his clear disdain for the elves. “We’re going to take back Erebor. It’s about time it is back in the rightful hands of the line of Durin.”

“There are some who would deem it unwise,” Elrond said, shifting his gaze between Thorin and Gandalf. Gandalf seemed to understand what Elrond meant, but Thorin ignored it. “Are you sure this isn’t too risky an endeavor?”

“There is no risk if you don’t try.”

“And what of this Halfling you travel with?” Elrond turned the conversation—along with his unwavering gaze—toward Bilbo. Bilbo found it unnerving to suddenly be the center of conversation.

“I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire,” Bilbo said. He couldn’t help but think about how his voice nearly cracked when he mentioned the Shire. He wished he could be back there, back home, right now.

Elrond looked at Thorin. “Why do you travel with a hobbit from the Shire? What stake does he have in reclaiming the Arkenstone?”

“He is the son of Belladonna Took,” Gandalf added.

Elrond paused, returning his gaze to Bilbo. “You are one of the Tooks. Yes, I see now.” Bilbo felt the color flush out of his face. “Well, it’s unfortunate that Erebor fell into the hands of Smaug. He is infamous across all of Middle-earth as a jewel thief. The Arkenstone on top of one of Middle-earth’s most prosperous mines and all of its gold would be the ultimate prize for him. Fate is on your side, Thorin Oakenshield, for a Took just might stand a chance in helping you on this quest.”

If Thorin heeded Elrond’s words, his expression made no indication of it. He remained stoic, albeit annoyed at being here in the first place. Bilbo assumed this annoyance had to do more with Elrond mentioning the Arkenstone. This had to be the family heirloom Thorin mentioned the first night he and Bilbo met, but he seemed to want to keep the details of it shrouded in secrecy, something which Elrond did not share.

“Very well,” Elrond went on. “We can extend our hospitality to you all for as long as you need. We can’t help any more beyond that, but I hope you accept the offer to stay here for the night.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” Gandalf said.

“Lindir will show you all where you are staying.” An elf shorter than Elrond, but with similar dark hair, joined Elrond at his side.

The elf called Lindir began to lead the dwarves out of the dining room and down the corridor. The corridor felt uneasier now than it had when they had first arrived, but Bilbo felt that reflected his state of mind more than anything else.

Bilbo felt someone tapping on his shoulder while he was walking. He was at the end of the line of dwarves, so he could only guess it was Gandalf. And his intuition turned out to be correct when he turned around and saw the wizard close behind him. Once they got to the staircase, Gandalf paused, which made Bilbo hesitate, too.

“I would like to speak with Bilbo in private for a moment,” Gandalf said to Lindir. “You can show the dwarves where they’ll be staying and I can see to Bilbo.”

Lindir nodded his understanding and led the dwarves up the stairs. Bilbo watched them go until Gandalf started speaking again.

“You know, Elrond is right,” Gandalf started right away, not skipping a beat. “Your part in this journey will be bigger than any of them realize, Thorin himself least of all.”

“Why did you pick me to be part of this quest?” Bilbo asked. “You know Thorin must think my very presence is a burden hindering his journey.”

“I think you know why, and I think it would do you well not to jump to such brash conclusions about Thorin. He underestimates you, but if he truly took issue with you being here he wouldn’t have asked me for help in finding a burglar for him in the first place.”

“But I’m not a burglar,” Bilbo said. “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

“That’s enough now. Come now, let me show you where you’ll stay.”

Bilbo climbed the stairs ahead of Gandalf, who remained a few consistent steps behind him.

At the top of the staircase was another, albeit smaller, corridor. Doors lined the wall, each presumably opening to chambers where the dwarves were all staying. Gandalf led Bilbo past a few doors before finally stopping at one. He opened the door and the first thing Bilbo noticed was that the room was empty.

“Lord Elrond thought it best that a hobbit have his own room separate from the dwarves,” Gandalf said. “It’ll probably smell a little more pleasant, if nothing else.” He and Bilbo shared a laugh.

The room wasn’t large, but compared to the past few nights it felt like an upgrade. The room had a bed—it was rather large for Bilbo’s size—and a dresser. It felt a little more like home than Bilbo’s sleeping arrangements of the previous nights. It was still rather early in the day, but Bilbo felt the exhaustion from the night overcome him as he thought about how he would be sleeping comfortably while they were here.

“You should settle in and get some sleep tonight while you can,” Gandalf said. “Who knows when you’ll get to enjoy a good night’s rest in a warm bed again.”


	6. Chapter 6

The remainder of the day in Rivendell was peaceful and Bilbo felt safe and content. Exploring the rest of the house, the elves showed him the elaborate, sophisticated security system they set up. There was no fear of any sort of attack so long as the Company stayed here. Thorin may have felt nothing but hostility toward the elves, but they did not extend the same harsh feeling to him. At least, they didn’t show such feeling outwardly.

Thorin remained adamant that the Company only stay one night in Rivendell—Bilbo was sure that he thought even the one night would be much too long—and stayed strong in his resolve in spite of Balin’s protests that they ought to take advantage of the elves’ hospitality and rest here while they could.

“I trust my cousin’s judgement,” Balin confided to Bilbo later, “but he is very stubborn and does not take to changing his mind so easily.”

Bilbo slept soundly that night, a full night’s sleep without any interruption. When he woke up the next morning, he felt well-rested and the most refreshed he had felt in days. The bed was plenty large enough for him to stretch out so he took advantage of that to make himself as comfortable as possible.

Once Bilbo rose the tone of the morning wasn’t so peaceful. There was an air of hurrying with Thorin’s insistence on leaving Rivendell as soon as possible. Gandalf managed to convince Thorin to stay as long as breakfast, rather than scurry away at the first light of dawn, so that gave Bilbo some peace of mind. He was happy to enjoy one last meal here before they set off.

Nerves surrounding the continuation of the quest filled the air of the meal, but Bilbo at least enjoyed the meal itself. Elrond’s kitchen served some of the best meals he had had outside of the Shire in his life and he hoped that some day he could return to Rivendell to appreciate Elrond’s food and company again.

Once the meal was over, Thorin was the first to rise from the table. A moment lapsed and everyone else moved to follow him. They all returned to their chambers to gather what little belongings they brought with them. Bilbo stayed in his room longer than the others, using the extra time to make his bed. It was a small gesture of thanks he could give back to the elves for their gracious hospitality. Who knew what state the dwarves would leave their rooms in, so at least they wouldn’t have to worry about the state of Bilbo’s.

Bilbo was the last to head down the stairs. The dwarves, Gandalf, and Elrond all waited for him at the foot of the staircase. As he descended the stairs Bilbo realized that Gandalf and Elrond were so close to each other in height. He was short enough among anyone besides the company of other hobbits that he never thought about the height of taller folk like Gandalf and the elves, but he found this particular discovery to be an interesting observation nonetheless.

Elrond beamed when he saw Bilbo climbing down the stairs. Then he moved to address the Company as a whole. “I wish you all the best on your quest.”

“Thank you,” Gandalf said.

Without thinking, Bilbo realized he had moved his gaze to Thorin as he reached the bottom of the stairs, hoping to study his assessment of the situation. As usual, Thorin’s expression lent no strong hint of emotion. Bilbo guessed he let his guard down a little bit with relief that they were now leaving the domain of the elves. Bilbo thought about the Arkenstone and wondered why Thorin was so adamant about reclaiming it. How did he think that would help overthrow Smaug’s dominion in Erebor?

Elrond led everyone to the front doors. Bilbo trailed behind Thorin, who was off to the side of the group. Elrond remained at the front of the group, opening the front doors for everyone. They all made their way outside and the first thing Bilbo noticed was that the air outside was cooler and crisper than the warmer air inside. He had gotten so used to the interior heating of the house during their stay here, short as it was.

“Farewell, Thorin Oakenshield,” Elrond said. “I wish all of you safe travels on this journey. If all goes well I should hope that Smaug will no longer be the same threat he has been to Middle-earth for all of these years.”

“Thank you,” Thorin grumbled. He turned away from the doors and the Company followed. Behind them, the doors to Rivendell slammed shut.

Gandalf walked with the Company all the way to the can. It was still parked in the same spot at the edge of the estate, right where Thorin left it the day before.

“I will meet up with all of you on the other side of the Misty Mountains,” Gandalf explained, “but I need to warn you. Last I heard of the Misty Mountains was that it was infested with goblins, so I must urge you to avoid that route going straight through the mountains. It would be most perilous and foolish. The drive around the mountains will take you hundreds of miles south and will certainly prolong your journey, but I will meet you at the Gap of Rohan south of the mountains. The road there is much safer.”

“What choice do we have?” Thorin asked.

“If you were to go through the mountains and encounter the goblins it would be certain death.”

“Very well, then. We’ll do it your way.”

“You will not be able to reach the Gap of Rohan before nightfall today, but I will wait for you there.” With that, he started walking away from the Company, using his staff as a walking stick. Bilbo once again wondered how Gandalf got around on his own, but he was a wizard so many of his ways were shrouded in magic and secrecy.

The Company began to pile into the van, grounding Bilbo back in reality. He made sure he wasn’t the last one into the van. He was starting to like being crammed into the middle of the dwarf pile in the back seats. It wasn’t any less uncomfortable, but it was preferable to sitting in one of the window seats that would surely exacerbate his motion sickness. If there was one thing he was learning about Middle-earth from this quest, it was that a lot of the roads were not in great condition.

***

Thorin eventually stopped the van towards the foot of the mountain by a body of water. He climbed out of the driver’s seat, so all the dwarves followed suit, assuming this was a planned stop. Bilbo assumed this would be where they would stop for the night because they must have driven for several hours straight. The sun was still out, but the afternoon was waning and Bilbo felt stiff from sitting packed into the van for too long.

The sky was a captivating shade of purple as the sun lowered toward the horizon. Thorin parked on a rocky piece of land alongside a stream. It seemed serene, but the mood of the dwarves did not match this.

“Where are we?” Bilbo asked.

“We are outside the mines of Moria,” Balin said. “These mines used to belong to our kin but they were abandoned long ago. I believe we might have one day returned to these mines, but at some point they collapsed in so we will never be able to reestablish dominion there. Luckily it had been abandoned by the time it collapsed in so no dwarves were lost, but it is still a tragedy that we all have to face. We all know the history of Moria, but most have not seen the mines for themselves—that is, at leas tthe exterior of it since that’s all that’s left.”

“We also have a flat tire,” Thorin sighed. “Balin, make sure everyone gets settled here for the night. I’m going to have to change the tire now while we still have some light.” Thorin turned away and walked back to the van.

“Alright now, you all heard Thorin.” Balin raised his voice as he addressed the rest of the dwarves. “We’re going to be here for the night. Bombur, can you start preparing some food for us? Bofur, will you take the first watch tonight? I can take the second watch.”

Bofur and Bombur agreed.

“Is there any way I can help?” Bilbo asked.

“There isn’t, actually,” Balin said after a moment of contemplation. “Why don’t you get some rest? We’re going to be here a while.” Balin turned to the rest of the dwarves to instruct them further.

Across the clearing Bilbo saw Thorin pulling a spare tire out from underneath the car. He seemed so in his element while he worked to switch out the flat tire for this new tire. This Thorin felt so different from the cold and aloof dwarf that Bilbo knew so well.

Bilbo decided he wanted to explore this open area a bit since it was going to be a while before Thorin finished changing the tire and Bombur finished preparing dinner for everyone. Moria seemed to be a significant place for these dwarves, so it would be good for Bilbo to get a good look around the space. There wasn’t much to see in the particular spot where they stopped because they stopped along the stream but quite a distance from the bottom of the mountain, where the entrance to the collapsed mine must have been. Thorin made sure they parked far enough off the road, though, so they would not be mistaken as vagabonds by random passerby late at night. But they were still a fair distance away from the mountain proper. It was far enough that Bilbo didn’t want to make the trek to the bottom of the mountain and risk having to walk back to the encampment in the dark or, worse, risk missing dinner.

Bilbo did not realize how long he _had_ been gone until he returned to the camp to see the dwarves in a bit of a panic. There was more energy in the air than there had been when they first made it to Moria, but it was by no means a positive energy. Everything felt frantic and in disarray.

“Bilbo, there you are!” Fíli yelled.

“What do you mean?” Bilbo blinked. He realized that the sun was setting so he must have been gone longer than he thought. He lost track of the time while looking at the scenery, trying to take all of it in while he still could before he lost the light.

“We thought we’d lost you,” Kíli said. “you went off, but we got worried when you didn’t come back right away.”

“We thought we’d lost our burglar,” Dwalin said. “Come on, now, Bombur’s cooking up a good soup for all of us.”

“He’s been lost, ever since he left home,” Thorin grumbled.

***

Bilbo appreciated Bombur’s soup and felt a little more lively with the other dwarves, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t shake what Thorin said. That he was lost. That seemed to affirm the doubts he had about being on this quest in the first place.

The dwarves began to go to sleep as the fire burned out. With the flat tire replaced, they understood they would pick up and get back on the road at the first crack of dawn the next morning. As promised, Bofur took the first watch so he settled himself on one of the flattest rocks in the range and took watch a few yards away from the rest of the encampment. He was far enough away to have a good view of the landscape but still close enough to shout to the others if he spotted any danger.

Though he committed to taking the second watch, Balin did not look like he was quite ready to sleep yet. It was convenient for Bilbo, for whom sleep evaded as well.

“What’s on your mind, laddie?” Balin asked. Since they were the only ones awake they were bound to keep each other company until one of them fell asleep.

“You all heard Thorin,” Bilbo mused. “I don’t belong here. I should have never agreed to leave Bag End.”

“You shouldn’t take everything Thorin says to heart. He hasn’t told you why this quest is so important to him, has he?”

Bilbo shook his head. “It’s his family’s estate, so I suppose I understand where he’s coming from, but I don’t know any more than that.”

“I see. In that case, then, I’ll tell you all of it.”


	7. Chapter 7

At first Bilbo didn’t know how to respond to Balin’s proposition. Of course he had been curious about Thorin and his life, since the dwarf was so private about his own feelings, but he was even more so curious about why no one was willing to talk about it either. But he wasn’t sure how to broach his questions or if he should have at all. It felt like a secret he wasn’t allowed to be part of.

Until now.

“Alright.” Bilbo blinked.

Balin didn’t skip a beat. “Thorin comes from the line of Durins. The Durins have always been a mining family, but the family business really started to pick up with Thrór, Thorin’s grandfather. He was the one who built the Erebor estate into what we know it as now. He established the estate where it was because it was right at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, a mountain that dwarves had not explored before. Long before we settled in the Lonely Mountain many of our kin mined in the mines of Moria, which you already saw. Over the years the dwarves migrated more to Erebor because it was the perfect opportunity and Thrór was rather lucky to strike it so rich with the business there. Dwalin, Óin, Glóin, and I are all descendants of the line of Durin so that’s how we know Thorin and got into this business. But many more dwarves flocked to Erebor when they saw how prosperous the business was, which only made it flourish even more.

“It was Thrór himself who found the Arkenstone in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. It’s a majestic jewel, the perfect representation of the success the Durins have seen in their endeavors.

“Life was normal for Thrór at that point, as it was for the subsequent generations. Thrór had a son, Thráin, and Thráin had three children, all of whom you already know. Thorin, Frerin, and Dís. Thorin’s mother died when he was young, but other than that it was a happy time for the family until Smaug came.

“Smaug was an infamous name in Middle-earth, but until this time he had only ever committed petty crimes. He gained his reputation because it was impossible for anyone to know where he would strike next. He’s always operated alone and that makes it easier for him to get around without anyone spotting him. The Arkenstone was a tempting target for Smaug because it also lay atop a large hoard of gold. Smaug somehow managed to get past the estate’s security system and into the house. Thrór and Thráin were not equipped to put up a fight against Smaug by the time any of them realized what was happening. Thorin made sure he got them out of the house. Thorin, barely of age himself at this point, took charge over his siblings. I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly what happened, but the three of them were separated from Thráin and Thrór.”

“And Thráin and Thrór,” Bilbo started. “What happened to them?”

“We don’t know what happened to them after they were separated from Thorin. By Thorin’s account, he never saw them again and we haven’t been able to find any bodies, so it’s like they just vanished. I suspect they had gotten into some sort of accident, for neither of them was in a sound state of mind as this was all unfolding and they were grieving the inevitable loss of their wealth, but we have no way of knowing that for sure because we have never found a wreckage of any sort. I don’t think they got very far, if I’m being honest. But it’s not like we can go looking around the estate for a wreckage, so we just don’t know for sure.

“The rest of us, the miners, were residing in Ered Luin on the other side of Middle-earth, far, far away from the destruction facing Erebor. It was fortunate for them that they could take refuge in Ered Luin with us, and we were of course happy to take them in for however long they needed to stay. But this was the opportune time of year for Smaug to strike against Erebor. It was the off-season for the miners, so most of us went back to our homes in Ered Luin. This meant that Erebor would be more vulnerable without so many dwarves to defend it. It was just the three generations of Durin. I still wonder why Smaug didn’t attack Thrór and Thráin that day. From Thorin’s account, they were delirious with the idea of losing everything they had worked for and they surely would have tried to put up a fight against Smaug. And Smaug is no pacifist either. He’s known to be violent.”

Balin paused, gathering his thoughts. Bilbo let him take his time. This was a lot to unload so he understood Balin would have to think hard through all of it.

“But what stuck with me the most, Bilbo, is that there was something rather kingly about the way Thorin handled the immediate urgency of the situation. He has always been a natural-born leader, but this confirmed that in my mind. He saved his siblings’ lives that day. After hearing of that experience I knew he is one I would follow, very much as if he were my king.”

Bilbo’s expression softened upon hearing the story. Hearing this perspective gave Bilbo some empathy for Thorin’s position.

“This is more than just ownership of the property to him,” Bilbo contemplated. “This is about his family.”

“Dís made sure Fíli and Kíli grew up hearing about how their uncle managed to pull through the danger of that situation and save his family as best as he could. Loyalty is everything to Thorin. He would do anything to protect the good of his family and even for the good of all the dwarves and their families under his grandfather’s employment. He thinks he has the best chance to take back Erebor and restore it to its former glory. He has been able to muster this company of dwarves to risk everything for this journey because of loyalty. We are all loyal to Thorin so he is loyal to us, too. He has done well by all of us so many of the dwarves think this is the best way to return the favor.”

“Why have they been so secretive about it, though?” Bilbo asked, trying not to think of what _he_ was also keeping from _them_.

“It’s simple, really. Thorin doesn’t trust easily. Not after the way he watched his family lose everything so quickly. The others follow his suit out of respect, really. I don’t understand why they have to keep it so quiet from you—whether Thorin likes it or not, you’re as much a part of the Company as they all are—but Thorin isn’t quick to trust, so the Company isn’t quick to trust.

“You should get some sleep now. I’m going to need some sleep before Bofur will wake me up for the second watch.”

***

Bilbo awoke the following morning as Kíli stood over him, shaking him awake. It was still dark out, but the first glimpse of dawn broke across the horizon. This sunrise tinted the sky with a faint orange hue, paving the way for what was bound to be a clear day.

Most of the dwarves were already awake at this point. Fíli and Kíli appeared to have the task of rousing those were still asleep.

Bilbo rose to his feet. He didn’t sleep well, not with the weight of everything Balin told him gnawing away at him. Somehow the idea of sitting packed into the van all day only made him feel more exhausted. It would be no short drive the rest of the way down the Misty Mountains to the Gap of Rohan where they promised to meet Gandalf when they set off from Rivendell.

The drive of the previous day from Rivendell to Moria had been tolerable enough since they followed the road in a straight line down alongside the Misty Mountains. The road started to curve more as they moved farther south into the territory of Dunland. Bilbo caught a glimpse of the sign denoting the northern border into Dunland outside, but he didn’t know for sure how big it was because he never saw a sign saying they were ever leaving Dunland.

But they must have crossed the border out of the territory and towards the kingdom at Rohan at some point, for Thorin finally pulled the van off the main road and found a suitable spot to park.

“This should be where Gandalf said he’d meet us,” Dwalin said from the passenger’s seat, examining a map in his lap.

Everyone got out of the van and it didn’t take long for Bilbo to spot Gandalf. The gray wizard made his way toward the Company.

“I see you all made it in one piece,” Gandalf said. “That was the hard part of the drive. Driving north on this side of the mountains should be a lot easier.”

“We already had one flat tire on the way to Moria,” Thorin said.

“Well it’s a good thing the roads tend to be better-maintained on this side of the Misty Mountains, then, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” Fíli said, cracking a smile.

“It is already past midday so you shouldn’t plan to go much farther today. The sun will set before you know it and you will want to rest up as we approach the last stretch of the journey. I will follow you and stop where you think it’s best to make camp for the night. But don’t go too far north.”

Thorin nodded. “I will need to fill the gas tank first and then we will set off again. You all can stretch your legs while I fill up the tank. It’s going to be a few minutes.” He pulled a tank of gas out of the trunk of the van and moved to fill the van with the gas.

Bilbo kept to himself during this break in the journey, grateful for the quiet moment of stasis. Gandalf was busy talking with the other dwarves.

After a few minutes, the trunk slammed shut and Thorin beckoned everyone back to the van. Once everyone was back in the van and the engine started to rumble again, the journey continued from there.

***

Thorin drove the van north for a few hours before he grew weary. Gandalf had been right that they would need to find a suitable spot to camp for the night. Thorin parked the van on the outskirts of the first forest they encountered along the road north.

“This is Fangorn Forest,” Gandalf told Bilbo while the dwarves unpacked the supplies they would need to set up camp. The two of them were off to the side while the others were the ones setting up everything. Knowing Thorin it would be easier for him if they stayed out of the way and let the dwarves handle the manual labor.

“You say that as though there is a problem with that,” Bilbo said. “ _Is_ there a problem?”

“Not necessarily. The problem would be if you tried to go into the depths of the forest. You won’t know for sure what you’d find in there. It is nothing that should be of concern to you so long as you all stay on the outskirts of the forest right here.”

Through the rest of the day and all the way through sundown, all was well with the Company. It was not until they had eaten dinner and stoked a fire that something felt wrong.

It started off as a stirring among the trees. It was loud enough from a distance to make Bifur and Bofur both jump.

“What was that?” Thorin hummed, rising. His body language made it clear that he was going to scope out the scene by himself, which filled Bilbo with a sense of dread. Something was wrong. This was not like the troll attack, something sudden that caught them by complete surprise in the dead of night.

Walking toward the trees, Thorin pulled Orcrist from his belt. Thorin’s intent to scope out this threat alone was clear and all the dwarves seemed to accept that. But Bilbo did not accept it in such stride.

A large figure jumped out from the shadowy cover of the trees. It was large and its howling reminded Bilbo of a wolf, but it did not look at all like a wolf.

“A warg!” Thorin yelled to the others. Bilbo had never heard of a warg, but he could tell it was a foe rather than friend. Seeing the visual of the threat itself only filled Bilbo with a greater sense of urgency to intervene. He had been chosen as the fourteenth member of this Company, so it was about time he live up to that role. It would be reckless to let Thorin take this warg on alone.

Without another thought, Bilbo pulled his own sword out of its scabbard and dashed forward, approaching the warg at as speed it was too slow to anticipate. Bilbo didn’t weigh the consequences of what he was doing, just that the Company and especially Thorin were in danger and he had to protect them as best as he could.

He swung his sword at the warg three times as he ran to startle the beast. Only the third blow was close enough to land on the warg’s body. Up close the warg was enormous, making Bilbo feel smaller than ever. But the blow hit the warg hard enough to stun it, surprised that it had been hit at all. Thorin took the distraction as an opportunity to slice at the warg. This attack was enough for the warg to relent. It backed back into Fangorn, accepting its defeat at the hands of this dwarf and hobbit.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin and saw his eyes shining with an intensity Bilbo had never seen before. They maintained this transfixed eye contact, barely registering the other dwarves and Gandalf clamoring over to make sure they were both okay.

“We’re not injured,” Bilbo reassured the others, breaking his eye contact with Thorin and snapping back into reality. He had just attacked the massive beast with his sword as his only defense.

Gandalf heaved a sigh. He was still looking at Bilbo as the dwarves crowded Thorin to verify Bilbo’s word. Thorin, however, was still staring at Bilbo.

“Why did you do that?” Thorin asked, out of breath. “Are you mad? You could have gotten yourself killed!” Bilbo noticed he didn’t speak with the air of hostility Bilbo had come to expect from him. He sounded like he was _concerned_.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Bilbo started. “I’m the fourteenth member of this Company, so I feel it’s my duty to protect all of you. Look, Thorin, I know you doubt me and that you always have. But I know you have lost a lot in your life, and that’s why you’re on this quest. Meanwhile I have Bag End and yes, I do miss my books and my armchair dearly. That’s home to me. But you don’t have a home, so I want to help you take your home back if I can.”

Thorin paused. “When we first departed from the Shire, I expected you would give up and turn around at the first sign of any hardship. I thought you wouldn’t be up to the task and you wouldn’t care about seeing it to whatever end, no matter the price you would have to pay along the way. Never have I been so wrong.” Thorin moved away from the dwarves, toward Bilbo with open arms. He pulled Bilbo into a tight hug.

This caught Bilbo off guard. He hadn’t expected such a sharp change in Thorin’s demeanor, but he couldn’t deny this was a lot better than unfriendliness. He never realized the full extent of the height difference between him and Thorin until now. Here he was, his entire body enveloped in Thorin’s embrace. In a slow motion he wrapped his arms around Thorin to return the hug. Though the hug initially caught him off guard, he felt more reassured by the time Thorin pulled away.

Thorin looked over Bilbo’s body to make sure the hobbit had no visible injuries, even though he had been here to witness the skirmish up close and he could see that the warg never touched him or Bilbo.

“How did you manage to fight off the warg?” Thorin inquired. “I did not expect a hobbit of the Shire to wield a sword so well. It’s as if you’ve held a sword your whole life.”

Bilbo paused, holding his breath. He exhaled through his nose and then spoke, trying to keep his voice steady. “I have, actually. I’m an assassin.”


	8. Chapter 8

There was a long pause once Bilbo spoke the words that he was afraid to confess to them. None of them knew what to say. Not that Bilbo knew how to go about it, either. But it was a matter of time until it came out. He was going to have to tell them about it sooner or later.

“An assassin?” Thorin repeated.

“Yes, and my mother was one as well,” Bilbo started to explain. All he could do at this moment was start with the easiest part of the story. “The Tooks are a line of assassins in service to the Thain of the Shire. The history of the Tooks is one of the few things the elves know about us hobbits.”

“I thought you said he was a burglar,” Bofur said to Gandalf. Bilbo knew that was what they were all thinking, even though most of them were not keen to say so the way Bofur was.

Thorin turned to Gandalf. “You knew all along. This is why you picked him for this quest. The fourteenth member of our company, your so-called burglar, was actually an assassin this whole time.”

Gandalf raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond.

“I suppose that’s why he wanted me to be your burglar,” Bilbo said, struggling over his words. He didn’t like that he felt so passive in this situation. This was about him, after all. “You always wanted someone to take back the Arkenstone, but I suppose Gandalf thought he could help you with more than just taking back the Arkenstone.”

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Dwalin asked.

Bilbo sighed. “Because I refused to be an assassin. My parents are dead because I was born to be an assassin. The Tooks all train to be assassins from a young age in defense of the Thain of the Shire, but the Shire is such a peaceful place that rarely have our services been in actual need. But I know that there is also some talk beyond the borders of the Shire of the Tooks because there have been some Tooks with enormous skill. Even Elrond himself was familiar with the name, even if only in relative passing.

“My mother started training me to be an assassin from the very first day I was old enough to hold a sword. She thought I was a fast learner, too, and that I had a lot of promise in the trade. I was never truly enjoyed it because I’m a Baggins at heart, and it was quite strange that a man as sensible as my father fell in love with a Took, but that was the way it all happened. And it ended up being a good match, too. Everything was well in my home through my tweens, but that changed right before I came of age.

“As I am sure you can imagine, assassin training is no small endeavor. When my father built our house for my mother he made sure there was an entire studio for her to train me in. It’s where we kept all the weapons, where they would be secluded away from the rest of the house. But then one day… I don’t remember exactly how it happened, nor do I care to remember the details, but one of my father’s books ended up in the studio by mistake. My father never felt like he quite fit into this world of weaponry, so he stayed out of it and left my mother to it. He knew what he was getting into when he married my mother, of course, and part of that was respecting the Took family tradition. My mother never expected him to change that for her. Except for that day, when he went looking for the one book that somehow ended up in the studio. Like I said, I don’t care to remember the details, so it’s just as well that I can’t remember if it was my mother or I that had left one of the swords out, but he tripped and…” Bilbo paused, letting his shoulders sink to release all the tension he had been holding in. “His death broke my mother. She succumbed to grief in only a few months. By that point I had just come of age. Here I was, a hobbit who just came of age, with no parents but a large house and inheritance to my name.” He hated remembering his parents this way, but there was no way he could avoid it.

“I decided I wanted nothing to do with being an assassin anymore because clearly it did me a whole lot of good, and who knew what else would come of it if I stuck to it for any longer. Hobbits typically give others presents on their birthday, so I waited until my next birthday and gave all of the weaponry in the house and everything else that reminded me at all of the assassin life to my Took relatives. I wanted no physical reminders of that in the house. I made the studio into a storage space so I wouldn’t have to go in there often. I’m still in the house because I feel like that’s one way I can honor my parents’ memory, but even that is painful to confront on the harder days.

“Bearing my father’s surname gave me a chance to blend into some anonymity. Hobbiton is a small-knit community, so many already knew me as Belladonna’s son, but those who didn’t only knew me as the son of a Baggins, which was enough for me. I settled into this new life and it went well until Gandalf showed up on my porch, ready to whisk me off on this adventure, reminding me that I still am, and always will be, a Took in blood.”

Moments of silence passed. Thorin was the only one who could find the words to speak up.

“You too have felt the weight of losing your family,” Thorin said. “Perhaps I was wrong once again. We are not so different after all.”

“I suppose not,” Bilbo said. Thorin was right. They were more like each other than either of them would have ever guessed. And Bilbo took comfort in knowing that.

***

The night was quiet after that. Bilbo was the only one who stayed awake through the night.

Thorin and Gandalf woke about an hour before sunrise but Bilbo did not join them in conversation. Though he did not like being in his own heads with his thoughts now, he did not want to talk anyone else about everything he divulged. He thought telling them of his family’s history might lift a heavy weight off his shoulders, but more than anything else he felt bogged down by the memory of it all. He hadn’t thought about all of it in years, so he found it all to be overwhelming. He had gotten by this long by forcing himself to push forward through it all and not dwell on the memory of how his parents met their untimely end.

But Thorin understood Bilbo’s pain. Thorin too lost so much all at once. Out of all in the Company he was the one who would understand best. Bilbo remembered how his demeanor changed as he told the dwarves his story. Something in Thorin’s expression had softened.

Bilbo tried to put himself in Thorin’s shoes. Bilbo saved him from the warg and now he was coming to find that they had a lot in common. They were never so different from each other after all.

The rest of the dwarves woke up along with the sun as the first light of day shone down onto the clearing.

“You will want to get an early start today,” Gandalf advised. “I know a place you can stay, but it is very far north and you will want to reach it before nightfall. If you don’t waste too much time on stops along the way you will be able to make it in good time.”

“What place?” Thorin questioned.

“There is a house a few miles west of the forest outside of Mirkwood’s borders. That forest takes you on a road straight towards the Lonely Mountain and you won’t have to cross into the estate of Mirkwood at all.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Thorin sneered. “I want nothing to do with Thranduil and those traitorous elves.”

Before Thorin gave any order, Dwalin had already started packing up their supplies in the van. Everyone was already prepared for the early departure. They needed no instruction this time.

“Master burglar, I want you to ride in the passenger’s seat with me today,” Thorin told Bilbo, handing him a map. “You can help me with the navigation.” Thorin smiled.

Bilbo released the tension in his shoulders and smiled back. It didn’t even cross his mind right away that Thorin still called him burglar. “Alright.”

***

The mid-morning sun blinded all of the dwarves as they drove past the estate of Lothlórien. It was that dreadful time of day where the sunlight bounced off every remotely shiny surface. Even with sunglasses on, Thorin was frustrated by the distraction.

“Why don’t you pull over?” Bilbo offered. “We can wait for the sun to rise a little higher so it won’t be shining right into your eyes while driving.” He wouldn’t admit it to Thorin, but he was a little unnerved at the prospect of Thorin driving while he was complaining about how the light was shining off the road signs into his eyes. He was already nervous enough about riding in the passenger’s seat, but he was lucky that he wasn’t feeling carsick today.

“No, no,” Thorin said. “You heard Gandalf. It would be a waste to pull over and wait for however long it’d take for the sun to reposition itself in the sky. We have a limited amount of daylight and still so much more ground left to cover.”

“Alright, but let’s hope you don’t run us off the road before then,” Bilbo laughed.

Thorin glared at Bilbo, smirking. “I’ll try not to.”

Come mid-afternoon, they made it into a more hilly range beyond the forests at the foot of the Misty Mountains.

At the top of the highest hill Bilbo spotted an enormous bear. The bear stood at this edge as if standing guard over the whole range. He did not know if the bear would attack them or ignore them. He might have stood a chance fighting the warg, but if the bear decided dwarves passing on the main road would be a threat to it then they would likely not stand a chance. This bear was so big that it could easily overpower all of them.

Thorin didn’t seem to notice the bear and so he kept driving up the road, scanning the road ahead for any sign of Gandalf. He eventually spotted the gray wizard beckoning to them far off the road, and so Thorin pulled over to where he stood.

“Leave the van here,” Gandalf said. “We will have to continue from here on foot.” He pointed to a small cottage at the other side of the clearing. “That is our destination.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Who is this guy, anyway?” Thorin asked, trailing after Gandalf. Gandalf was far ahead of everyone else, taking wide strides in a manner that Bilbo thought was very eager, although nothing felt eager about where they were going.

Bilbo kept on walking through the clearing, but he wondered when it was going to end. The expanse unfolding in front of him felt endless no matter how many steps forward he took. The sun was beating down on all of them and they were not close to any of the trees, where they could take shelter and compose themselves for a brief moment. They were simply going to keep walking through the clearing until they made it to the house.

“His name is Beorn,” Gandalf explained. “He’s a skin-changer. He might be willing to let us stay with him for the time being, while we’re on our way continuing east.” 

“What do you mean, he _might_ let us stay?” Bilbo chimed in, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t like the sound of entering someone’s home when he wouldn’t be a welcome guest. The Baggins in him was showing; an instinct in him at that moment tugged at him, urging him to turn around, for stirring this pot would not be worthwhile. Would it?

“Sometimes he takes the form of a bear and sometimes he’s a big, strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with. Either way, he’ll let us stay or he’ll kill us.”

“It’s not like we have any other choice,” Bilbo remarked dryly. He supposed that explained the bear he saw overlooking the hillside, though. That had to be Beorn and the bear must have been a guardian of the area, just as he had guessed. But he would have never guessed that the bear would be his host for the night.

“I don’t want to take too long to get to Erebor now,” Thorin put in, “now that we are so close to the end.”

Bilbo knew Thorin was right; they were so close to the end of their journey. Thorin would have his home back and Bilbo would be able to go back to his old life. At least, that was what he hoped would happen, rather than a more destructive alternative. He remembered Gandalf warning him that he would not come back the same hobbit he was when he first left the Shire. Maybe he had known it was because he was going to have to serve as assassin for the Company to take care of Smaug. He didn’t like the idea, but if using the skills he had learned from his mother meant that he would be able to return to his quiet life sooner, it would be what he’d do. He didn’t understand there to be another alternative to the situation.

As they got closer, the more Bilbo noticed that this house was little more than a quaint cottage. This Beorn character must have lived a quaint, independent life if he was willing to live out in essentially the middle of nowhere. Bilbo could understand why that seemed like a desirable alternative to the otherwise overwhelming, quick pace of the average modern life. Sometimes it felt like too much. It made Bilbo grateful that he had the quiet life he set up for himself at Bag End to fall back on in the hardest of times.

As they approached the house, Bilbo realized that he did not know what to expect of this Beorn character. Gandalf remained vague in his description of the man.

When they finally made it to the front gate to Beorn’s cottage, Bilbo felt a small pang inside him telling him to turn around and go back. He wasn’t sure why there was hesitation in his approach at the last minute, but he knew there was no way anyone else would hear him out in this situation, so he had no choice but to accept whatever fate awaited him on the other side of that front door.

Gandalf led the way through the small front yard from the gate to Beorn’s front door. Though small, it was a lavish garden that captivated Bilbo and forced aside his concerns about being here in the first place. There was something so comforting, so familiar about these surroundings to him.

Gandalf tapped the door with his walking stick. The sound of the knock boomed throughout the garden. It bounced off the leaves and echoed in Bilbo’s ears.

A moment passed—and it was a moment where Bilbo once again doubted why they were here in the first place, for it was a moment long enough for that thought to slip back into his consciousness—and then the door slid open. It slid open in a slow, cautious movement as if whoever was on the other side was anticipating an unwelcome guest. It made Bilbo uneasy; he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

On the other side of the threshold stood a tall man, almost as tall as Gandalf, with gray hair thin on his head and thick in his beard. He looked over Gandalf, inspecting him to make sure he was someone familiar and trustworthy. “Gandalf,” he mumbled in a low, hoarse voice. Then his eyes moved towards the rest of the company. His gaze did not linger for long on Bilbo as he scanned every other person standing with Gandalf in his garden. “Dwarves, I see?” He guessed.

Gandalf nodded. “They are with me, Beorn. We seek temporary refuge here on our journey to oust Smaug from Erebor.”

Beorn took a few moments to contemplate Gandalf’s words. It was a few seconds too long for Thorin, apparently, for he decided to interject of his own accord. “He took the estate that rightfully belonged to my family. It was not his to take, so it’s about time we reclaimed it for ourselves.”

Beorn paused, as if considering Thorin’s appeal. Bilbo understood Thorin’s intentions in his actions, but he couldn’t help but think he was going a bit too far in defending his own honor. Beorn had not gone out of his way to threaten Thorin or anything of the sort, so there was no point in standing up for himself in the face of no danger. Bilbo thought he would benefit from learning how to bite his tongue some of the time. He was sure that his tongue would get him into trouble, but he hoped that this would not be one such instance.

Beorn maintained silence for a few moments longer, drawing out the tension.Bilbo felt himself tensing up in anticipation of what he could possibly say. Then he spoke up.

“Why should I trust you? Why should I trust that you won’t merely turn against me at your earliest convenience?”

Bilbo thought that would be all Beorn had to say, but what Bilbo thought would be a terse rejection of Gandalf’s offer turned into a longer tirade.

After a couple of sentences, Bilbo started to tune Beorn out. It wasn’t anything about the way Beorn spoke; in fact, Bilbo thought Beorn seemed like a rather reasonable man by his standards. He was just a man who was content to be left alone in his house out here, and Bilbo could understand that.

But that didn’t grab Bilbo’s focus the way Beorn’s garden did. Bilbo found his eyes wandering away from the front door and toward the garden. Though it was small in size, it was lush in its greenery and looked to be thriving with life. Everyone else was fixated on Beorn, but Bilbo took a step to the side away from the group. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if he took a closer look at the garden. The plants were more impressive looking at them a little closer. Hues of green melded together and shimmered under the little sunlight that trickled in on this partly cloudy day. It was a peaceful moment, one that reminded Bilbo of the simpler things in life. It was the little moments like this that brought him comfort. It was especially welcoming in the midst of all the confusing feelings he had been drowning under for the last couple days.

Then something under the leaves caught Bilbo’s eye. He only got a glimpse from just looking, but he could see something brown sticking out under the leaves. It was a lighter brown than the dirt that surrounded it. Bilbo got down onto his knees and gently pushed the leaves apart so he could get a closer look. It was an acorn. The beginning of a new life. It reminded him that he was only in the middle of his journey and that it was not the end. There would be a new chapter to begin when this one came to a close. It was the revitalizing sign of renewal that he needed in this confusing, uncertain moment. But it certainly wasn’t going to grow sitting on top of the ground, rather than buried in the soil. If Beorn had meant to put it there, surely he would have planted it. Bilbo picked it up and tucked it into his pocket. It would be safe there for now.

He spun back around to see that the others had still not finished their exchange with Beorn. It had only been a minute. He slid back into the spot where he originally stood. It seemed that only Gandalf had noticed he moved at all, but Gandalf noticed everything and he wasn’t bound to say anything unless he thought it important to do so.

Finally, Beorn said, “I don’t trust you all, but I dislike Smaug more. Come in.”

***

Beorn proclaiming that he hated Smaug more than he disliked dwarves was about as warm of a welcome as Bilbo supposed they were going to get. It was something that became more apparent as the day wore on. Beorn was willing to let them all settle into his abode, but he was never a particularly amicable host to them.

Thorin insisted on spending most of the afternoon hunched over the map he had been carrying with him this entire journey. He was fixated now more than ever on the actual inner workings of how they were going to get into the estate, past Smaug, and to get the Arkenstone back. Up until now he had been unwilling to divulge too many details of how exactly he intended to get into the estate and go through the entire process of reclaiming the Arkenstone, but apparently Bilbo wasn’t the only one who had been in the dark about the details. As Thorin spoke, Bilbo noticed that most of the Company looked as intrigued by the details as he did. Had Thorin been _that_ hesitant to share his plans with anyone?

Bilbo preferred to stay to the side of this discussion, rather than take center stage in the conversation. He wasn’t ready to think too much about what lay ahead for them on this journey and he was thankful that Thorin didn’t push him to the front of this discussion.

As the afternoon stretched on, Bilbo felt more and more engaged in the discussion. He felt absorbed by Thorin’s words. There was something so captivating about listening to him speak so passionately on the subject. Bilbo already knew that this issue was very near and dear to his heart, but it was something else to hear the tremor in his voice.

After a while, Thorin managed to wrangle Bilbo into the discussion.

“Come here, burglar,” Thorin said. Bilbo moved closer to Thorin, joining him on the same sofa where he sat. He looked at the map Thorin had laid out on the coffee table.

But Bilbo wasn’t thinking about Erebor. He let the memories of Rivendell take hold in his mind, recalling how Elrond had heard the rumors about his family—the Tooks specifically, that was—being assassins and how he believed Bilbo stood a chance against Smaug. It made sense, what with the training Bilbo had undergone as a chid. He didn’t like to use those skills, but it had been clear in this quest that he still retained the muscle memory that came with the training. After all, it was he who defended Thorin against the beast in the forest when his life was nearly threatened.

“Look at this,” Thorin said, pointing out one of the maps specifically. Bilbo couldn’t figure out what the map was supposed to show until Thorin began to explain it.

“This is the basement underneath the estate,” Thorin explained. “It’s unlikely Smaug made his settlement down here. The upstairs portion of the estate is where all the extravagant displays of wealth are. That’s what he was really after.

“But the challenge rests in the fact that the Arkenstone is in the upstairs portion of the house, too. There is one way we will be able to get into the house without alerting Smaug to our presence. My grandfather was paranoid and set up a secret entrance into the house. When he first showed it to me I thought he was being overly paranoid, but now I’m glad he installed that system. It works in our favor now.”

***

Thorin spent the afternoon focused on thinking about what they were going to do next. The only thing that drove him away from this focus was Beorn announcing that he had prepared dinner for all of his guests. That enticed Bilbo a lot more than the prospect of making it all the way to Erebor.

The meal was a pleasant enough affair. Bilbo thought Beorn was a good cook, but he was rather quiet and brooding so Bilbo thought it better to keep his compliments to himself. Beorn didn’t seem like he wanted to hear more from any of them and had accepted them with open arms because of his disdain for Smaug and not so much out of the goodness of his own heart.

“You’ll wanna get some sleep early tonight, laddie,” Balin said after the meal, patting Bilbo on the shoulder. “It’ll be a long, exhausting day tomorrow. Walking the rest of the way to Erebor won’t be an easy feat.”

Bilbo furrowed his brow. “Wait, we aren’t taking the van with us?” He racked his brain trying to remember when this had been established in their plan, but there was no way Thorin had mentioned it during the afternoon without Bilbo catching it.

“Weren’t you paying attention to Beorn earlier? You know, when we were out on his porch pleading with him to let us stay? He’ll let us stay one night and he’s been kind enough to let us keep the van here while we make the rest of the way to Erebor on foot, but if we were to try and stay any longer then we’d have to take the van with us, and Gandalf said there’s no way we’d be able to manage that.”

Bilbo was sure he missed all of that, while he was distracted admiring Beorn’s garden, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone about that.

***

Bilbo struggled to fall asleep that night. It was like the stress of the previous days had washed over his mind, but it also left the path open and clear for a new thought to burst in and take domineering control of everything. And that realization was slowly but surely beginning to dawn on him and he couldn’t escape. It covered every crevice of his mind.

He was falling for Thorin and there was no way he would be able to deny it any longer. He couldn’t deny the way that he looked at Thorin and the way his eyes lit up when he heard Thorin talk so passionately about wanting to take the estate back. It was so mesmerizing. It comforted Bilbo to know that Thorin was a caring man deep down, now that he had finally managed to see past the much-harder exterior that he put on to the world.

Bilbo didn’t know what to make of these feelings. There was no denying that he was falling for Thorin and that was enough to make him stop dead in his tracks. At the core, it felt right, but he couldn’t help but think about how these feelings fit into the bigger picture. Thorin was a man trying to get his old life back for the greater good of his family. Bilbo didn’t have his family anymore. He was a man living by himself, trying to forget the worst of the feelings surrounding his loss for the sake of being able to push forward through the rest of his life. Two very different life trajectories, and there was no way he would be able to fit Thorin into his life. It wasn’t going to work. These feelings wouldn’t take him anywhere, but that didn’t change the fact that he felt feelings towards Thorin. He still wondered what it would be like to be by Thorin’s side.

There was no resolve to his thoughts, but instead he meandered around in circles in his mind over and over again. The thoughts chased him around until he drifted off into sleep and, by some stroke of luck, the thoughts did not follow him into his dreams.

***

“Where do we go from here?” Bilbo asked the following morning. No one had bothered to unpack their belongings the day before, so their departure came soon after breakfast with Beorn. Beorn had been generous enough to extend his hospitality into the following morning, but none of them wanted to push the boundaries of the agreement they had already made with him. They would be gone in the morning, just like they promised.

Thorin, as per usual at this point, wanted to get going as soon as possible in the morning. Everyone else, having already adapted to Thorin’s behavior, anticipated that and prepared accordingly. On this morning, however, Gandalf seemed a bit rushed too. Bilbo had gotten used to this rush from Thorin, but to get it from Gandalf too planted an uneasy feeling in his gut. Was something wrong?

“As you can see, we’re on the outskirts of a vast forest,” Gandalf said, “and Erebor is on the other side of the forest. You won’t be able to see it from here, but on the other side of the forest stands the Lonely Mountain, the one tall mountain signifying the location of the estate.”

“The mountain is where the mine is,” Dwalin explained. “The estate is right at the foot of the mountain.” That made sense to Bilbo: it seemed to be the perfect spot for the burgeoning new mine when Thrór first started the business.

_So all that’s left is go through this forest, then,_ Bilbo thought. _Yes, that sounds like it will add up to a recipe for disaster somehow. This feels too easy, but maybe the worst is in fact behind us already._

“Our next part of the journey is to go through the forest, which will be no easy feat,” Gandalf said.

_There it is._

As the Company walked, Bombur strayed from the line and a little too far to Gandalf’s right. “Stay closer to me!” He hissed, glaring at Bombur out of the corner of his eye. Everyone took one step to the left—it was not just Bombur who had jumped at the sudden ferocity in Gandalf’s tone. “We don’t want to stray too far to the right. To the right is Thranduil’s property and I’m sure you all know we wouldn’t want to risk being caught trespassing, even if by accident.”

Thorin let out a low sigh. It sounded like he had been holding his breath this entire conversation. Bilbo could tell that the name Thranduil filled him with some sort of frustration, some sort of deep-set rage. But why?

Bilbo opened his mouth as if he were about to ask aloud who Thranduil was, but no words came out. Instead, Thorin chimed in.

“We don’t need any more trouble with that traitor,” Thorin growled. “He already turned his back on my family once. The Mirkwood estate is right on Erebor’s backdoor, and yet he refused to help us when we fled Smaug’s attack through the forest. He had the audacity to threaten us if we even thought to set foot on his property again. It was just my siblings and I. We were hardly adults, but he spared us no mercy. We didn’t fully understand, especially not my dear younger brother and sister. He doesn’t care for anyone but himself.”

He was two paces ahead of Bilbo and kept his back turned the entire time he spoke, but Bilbo watched as he stood a little straighter by the time he ended his story. It was like a weight being lifted off his shoulders, and Bilbo felt a little better having heard it. He couldn’t begin to imagine what weight Thorin must have been carrying. How tempting it would be to take some of the weight off for him, to be able to ease his burden…

“Which is exactly why we’re not going that way,” Balin added, making Bilbo jump. He was so caught up in his thoughts about Thorin that he had forgotten that was walking beside the older man. “So what is this forest like, anyway, Gandalf?” To Bilbo, he added, “We have our own ways of traveling between Erebor and Ered Luin. We normally fly with the jets made with some of the metals we and our kin mine, so we don’t travel across the land.”

“Well, it’s simple, really. You just have to stick to the path. Stick to the path and you won’t have any problems and you’ll be able to reach the other side. But only as long as you stick to the path. If you stray off the path then you’ll never be able to find it again and you’ll be completely lost. It’s the only way in and out of that forest.”

No one spoke again after that. They made their way across the clearing. The tall trees in the distance grew larger and larger as they entered the foreground of Bilbo’s line of vision.

Then out of nowhere Gandalf stopped in his tracks and, without thinking, everyone else stopped along with him.

“What is it?” Thorin asked, looking up at the taller man.

“Unfortunately this is where I must leave you all for now,” Gandalf replied, his eyes stoic but not fixed on anyone in particular. “This morning, I received word of an emergency from a friend, so I must attend to them today. I am only able to walk with you this far and at this point our paths will have to split.”

“Will you be coming back, though?” Bilbo asked. Heat filled his face. He didn’t fully understand what was going on, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

“I will meet with you on the other side of the forest as soon as I am able and make sure you don’t go into the house without me,” was all Gandalf said. Everyone burst out into chatter with a flood of questions after that, following Bilbo’s lead, but Gandalf didn’t answer any of them. He waved them farewell and turned around the clearing and began to walk away.

The last thing any of them heard was his stern reminder: “Stay on the path.”


	10. Chapter 10

Everyone was dumbfounded by the abruptness of Gandalf’s departure. He gave no warning in advance that something came up and that he would have to leave. He just up and left.

It didn’t ease Bilbo’s nerves about going into the forest at all. He was already nervous enough, not knowing what to expect in the forest, but knowing he was going to be on his own with all the dwarves didn’t make him feel any more comfortable. At least with Gandalf they would have a wizard on their side.

That seemed to explain why he had been in such a rush for them all to leave Beorn’s cottage that morning, but even harboring this information, the whole situation didn’t sit right with Bilbo. What kind of “sudden emergency” warranted leaving them at this crucial moment in the quest? After all, he said that the trek through this forest would not be easy. His advice to stay on the path seemed straight-forward enough at face value, but knowing Gandalf, there was some layer of trickery hidden in such a simple instruction and Bilbo did not like the idea of getting lost in the expansive forest that lie ahead. Gandalf said if they got lost they would not be able to get out, but even if they could, how long would it take them to find _any_ way out?

In that moment Bilbo thought it best to take the lead. Who else was going to take charge? Thorin was the de facto leader of the group, but he seemed focused on something else. But, not wanting to take away from Thorin’s focus, Bilbo followed his eyes and realized that Thorin was looking straight into the eyes of an elf who had just appeared out of the section of the forest to the right, from Thranduil’s property. He had long light hair and if his eyes were a fire they would be ablaze across everything in sight. This must be the Thranduil that Thorin so deeply detested.

“What are you doing here?” Thorin growled. “Shouldn’t you be in your mansion admiring your jewels, or whatever it is you do?” Then, in a much quieter voice, he mumbled something in Khuzdul. Bilbo didn’t understand what he said, but whatever it meant, it had to be harsh. Thorin wasn’t one to mince words.

“No, I cannot,” Thranduil said, “because your family has claimed ownership over the jewels _my_ family so covets from the mines, so we do not have anything to admire. I’m here because I thought I heard footsteps on my property.”

“We aren’t _on_ your property. Don’t you think I would remember where your property line ends, after you threatened to hunt my siblings down if we set foot on your property ever again?” He took a few steps forward and then stopped, pointing to the ground. “This is where your property ends. And, as you can see, I’m not on your property so you can’t do anything to me in the name of trespassing.”

Thranduil ignored him. His eyes moved past Thorin and scanned the rest of the Company. “You do not travel alone.”

“Impressive, he seems to be quite aware of his surroundings,” Bofur whispered behind Bilbo, quiet enough that only those around him could hear.

“Do you think you can take back the Lonely Mountain and your family’s estate from Smaug? Surely you realize that Smaug is too cunning to see through any plans to oust him. That’s how he has made it this far as a thief. That’s why nobody has been able to stop him.”

“That is none of your business,” Thorin said, raising his voice as his temper flared more.

“I suppose I should stand aside now, so I can let you go off to your inevitable doom down that path.” He turned away and disappeared back into the thick forest, leaving Thorin red in the face with fury.

He turned back to the Company and began to shout more in the language that Bilbo didn’t understand. Though he couldn’t decipher a word of it, he could tell whatever Thorin said including a lot of cursing and some unkind words towards Thranduil. After seeing Thranduil’s calm but rude demeanor, Bilbo couldn’t blame him for the resentment Thorin harbored against him.

“We need to keep moving,” Balin implored. “We won’t want to stay in the forest too long. We should try to get out to the other side before nightfall. That forest doesn’t look welcoming during the day, so it will only be worse during the night.”

Thorin grumbled, but went along with Balin’s suggestion. “We need to keep moving,” Thorin repeated the instructions in a louder voice so everyone could hear.

As he started to move forward everyone followed. They walked at the same steady pace until they made it to the edge of the forest. Then they stopped, hesitation creeping in. None of them knew what to expect and that fear started to hold them back a little bit. This was one part of Middle-earth none of them were familiar with.

_This forest looks sick,_ Bilbo thought. _Not exactly the most welcoming sight you want to first see._

Bilbo, thinking about how important this quest was to Thorin, decided to take the first brave step forward. This was not the time to let doubt creep in. They were so close to Erebor. All that was stopping them between this point and the estate was this forest and they were going to conquer it one way or another.

Thorin moved to join Bilbo in entering the forest. Out of the corner of his eye Bilbo thought he saw Thorin crack a small smile at him. Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat at that sight and he beamed as they entered the forest.

The forest was dark as night. If they hadn’t just woken up a couple hours earlier, Bilbo might have actually believed that it was nighttime already. When they walked in they were already on the path, much to Bilbo’s relief. He knew he wasn’t going to get Gandalf’s words of warning out of his head anytime soon. _Stick to the path._

And stuck to the path they did. It was a long trek across this seemingly never-ending forest, along this faint path outlined in the dirt. It was a small line of cobblestones, wider than one person’s width, but not wide enough for two people to fit across. The exception was for Bombur, who was large enough that he took up most of the path’s width on his own. They stuck to the single-file line down the path, heeding Gandalf’s advice every step of the way.

Bilbo didn’t know exactly where they lost track of the path along the way, but they somehow managed to do it.

“Where’s the path?” Dwalin had asked as he looked over Thorin’s shoulder. Bilbo was a bit further back, and being a head shorter than Dwalin, knew he wasn’t going to be able to see it for himself, but he had no doubt they were lost.

“We need to keep going, and find the path,” Thorin said. He had been at the front of the line this entire time, and this entire time he kept a steady eye on the steps in front of them, making sure they were made of the same stony pattern and did not fade into the dirt. But not even that caution was enough to save them in the end, it turned out.

“We need to accept it,” Dori said after what felt like at least several minutes of circling. “We lost the path. We’re lost.”

“We can’t be lost!” Fíli cried out.

“Don’t you get it?” Bilbo grumbled, looking around at the others to gauge how everyone else felt about the situation. “We’re going around in circles.”

“Fíli’s right,” Thorin echoed. “If we’re lost then we aren’t going to be able to get out, are we?”

“You remember what Gandalf said,” Bofur answered. “If we lose the path, then we’re going to be lost in the forest and there won’t _be_ any way for us to get out.”

“We should try splitting up,” Kíli suggested, “and surely at least one of us will be able to find the path again. We can holler when one of us finds the path.”

Thorin seemed desperate enough for any suggestion that he was willing to go along with Kíli’s proposition. Bilbo, on the other hand, thought it was completely absurd. Even if someone could find the path again, how would they be able to guarantee they wouldn’t lose each other along the way? But it wasn’t his decision to make, and Thorin had the final say. Though his tone made clear his begrudging attitude towards the proposition, Thorin declared they would split up.

They divided into two groups. Thorin, Bilbo, Bofur, Fíli, Bombur, Dwalin, and Glóin continued moving in the same direction they were already going in. Meanwhile, Kíli, Bifur, Ori, Nori, Dori, Balin, and Óin went in the opposite direction.

For as far as Bilbo could see, there was nothing different laying ahead in their path. It was more and more of the same trees, the same rocks, and the same landscape. It looked as though the forest was never-ending in their direction. Bilbo assumed that it would be more of the same in the opposite direction. He remembered looking at the forest from the outside; it was expansive in all directions and who knew how they would be able to find a way out without being able to find the path again.

This went on for several minutes before Dwalin threw his hands into the air out of frustration.

“We really are lost!” He moaned.

“We need to keep moving,” Thorin hissed.

“You have to admit, though, this isn’t a good idea,” Dwalin said. “We’d be best if we stuck together.”

But they had no choice but to keep moving, so that was what they did. After several minutes they somehow managed to travel in a circle, for they bumped into the other half of their company.

“How did we end up here?” Fíli asked. “You all went the other way!”

“We’re lost, and we’ve been lost for quite some time,” Balin said, “and there’s certainly no denying it now.”

“What are we going to do now?” Kíli asked. On instinct, everyone turned to Thorin.

“Why don’t we try to figure out where we are first?” Balin said.

“How exactly are we going to do that?” Thorin retorted. “Do you think we’re going to launch our burglar into the sky, up past the trees to see what direction we’re going in?”

That was exactly what they ended up doing.

It wasn’t by Bilbo’s choice. He wasn’t fond of heights and he especially wasn’t fond of the idea of climbing up these tall trees to see over the top of them.

But it wasn’t like they were going to give Bilbo a say in the matter, because what other choice did they have?

Once Bilbo climbed to the top and stuck his head out from the leaves, his first instinct was to take in a deep breath of the fresh air. At this height it was crisp and refreshing, so much more comforting than the stuffier air in the confines of the forest. He looked beyond the tops of the trees to figure out how far away from the other side they were. To his surprise, it was not as far away as he thought it would be. He glanced behind him; they had made a decent amount of progress from the other side. If he had to hazard a guess, he would have assumed that they were at about the halfway point.

“I can see the mountain!” He yelled. “We’re almost there!”

Bilbo enjoyed one serene, but brief moment at the top of these trees, admiring the skyline, before the world came tumbling down and Bilbo was falling back down to the ground below. He landed on top of a pile of leaves. It was a softer landing than landing directly on the ground would have been, but partially-crunched leaves dug into his skin through his clothes and that feeling was bugging him.

Reorienting himself, he stood back up and saw the dwarves all around trying to figure out where they were based on Bilbo’s account. Bilbo was impressed that they were able to hear him yelling from all the way above the trees. He was a far way up and he didn’t know if his voice would travel down.

“We need to keep moving,” Thorin said once he saw Bilbo back on the ground with them, and so they continued to move forward as a group.

Then Bilbo swore he heard a rustling sound coming from the trees nearby, making him jump. They had not encountered any wildlife up until this point, so he raised his guard. No one else seemed to notice, but something did not feel right and Bilbo was apprehensive.

The noise seemed to subside after they took a few more steps. If Bilbo were one to let his guard down, he would have thought he imagined the noise. But he didn’t let his guard down and he spotted something stir in his line of vision. It was hard to make out from the distance, but the spot multiplied and moved closer and Bilbo got a good, clear look of what it was: a bunch of spiders closing in.

_A bunch of spiders is just what we needed,_ Bilbo thought dryly as he wondered how they were going to get out of this.

But he didn’t think of a solution fast enough, for the spiders moved in and the world went black.

***

When Bilbo opened his eyes, he realized that he was far above the ground. The spiders had woven everyone into their own individual cocoons, Bilbo included. He didn’t have to think about what would come next.

Bilbo could not move his limbs under the restrictions of the web, but he still retained his ability to see, even through the web that covered his face. He remained still for a moment to observe the spiders moving around the web, but when they turned away from him he began to fidget. He realized that he could move around a little bit in the web. It was only just for a little bit, but he was determined to use this newfound knowledge to his advantage to get them all out of this situation. He inched his hand towards the scabbard on his waist. In capturing everyone it seemed that the spiders did not think to remove their weaponry. A certain weakness that would come back to pay the price.

Bilbo slipped the sword out of the scabbard. He moved only in careful motions as he sliced his way out of the web, making sure he wouldn’t alert the spiders to the fact that he managed to escape. As he cut himself free, he assessed the situation. The rest of the Company were spread out across the web, so there was no way Bilbo was going to be able to cut all thirteen of them free without making enough noise from jerky motions—after all the web wasn’t easy to move in, and he wasn’t as familiar with it as the spiders, putting him at a distinct disadvantage—that would alert the spiders to the fact that he cut himself loose from the web they wrapped him in. The only way out of this would be cutting away at the web that held them all up among the trees. He looked down. It was a long way to the ground, but it was a risk he would have to take if any of them would be able to get out of the situation.

He rolled onto his side slowly. Time was of the essence, but it was not his top priority. Making sure he wouldn’t be heard by the other spiders was a more urgent matter. With his right arm extended, he began to slice away t the web around him. As long as he covered as much surface area as he could in his immediate range, he would be able to destabilize the very foundation of the web.

His careful calculations worked. After a few seconds of dicing and slicing the web, it eventually fell apart and succumbed to gravity, bringing down all of the thirteen cocoons and the spiders with it. Bilbo was lucky that the ground below turned out to be a softer landing than he had expected.

Then the spiders began to attack Bilbo, but he was ready with his sword still in hand. He plunged the sword into the first one lunging itself at him.

“It stings!” The spider screamed. “It stings!” It fell into a crumpled pile on the ground. Bilbo waited until he was sure the spider was dead before pulling his sword out.

That was enough to scare the other spider off in the other direction, not wanting to suffer the same fate. Bilbo did not let his guard down for at least five seconds, just in case it turned back around or another set of spiders showed up. Once he thought the coast was clear, he let out a sigh.

“Sting,” he muttered to himself, recalling how Balin told him about the naming of swords. “That’s quite a nice name. Yeah, Sting it is.” With a moment of assured safety, he looked over the sword, admiring the craftsmanship that went into its making. Then his mind turned to Thorin, and how Thorin also possessed a sword of Elvish make found in the troll caves, another thing they had in common.

Lowering the sword, he stood still to brush the leaves off his shoulders as he contemplated what was next. He didn’t put the sword back in its scabbard. He wasn’t going to let his guard down until they were out of the forest. He didn’t know how they were going to be able to get out, but that was the next worry he would focus on after they dealt with the spiders.

Apparently the fall from the high-up web had been enough to restore consciousness to the dwarves. Bilbo watched as they all began to struggle their way out of their webbed traps. He was relieved to see all of them recuperating with no apparent injuries from the web besides the initial drowsiness of being back on their feet. Most of all he was relieved to see Thorin get back up and wipe away the last of the web stuck to his sleeves. Thorin was tough so no doubt he would survive this, but Bilbo still felt reassured in the comfort of knowing the dwarf’s safety.

“What just happened?” Ori asked, looking around at the others for guidance.

Nobody had the chance to answer his question, though, for this moment of recovery was short-lived. The rustling sound from earlier came back, but this time Bilbo knew what it was. More spiders were coming.

“Run!” Bilbo commanded to the others.

They ran and the sound of scuttling legs trailed behind them. It sounded like the spiders were moving slowly, for the sound of movement sounded faint, though consistent. Bilbo thought maybe they would have a chance of getting away. He didn’t know how they would be able to, not without the path in their line of sight, but there had to be a way somehow.

They ran and ran, not thinking about where they were going. In this moment, their immediate survival mattered more. They kept running until they heard Kíli’s scream.

Bilbo stopped in his tracks and spun around on his heel, his hands tightening his grip on Sting. He held the sword up and scanned the vicinity to comprehend what was going on before he jumped into the action.

One of the spiders must have jabbed at Kíli, for he now lay on his side on the ground, clutching his right leg. The rest of the Company had the same idea as Bilbo to draw their swords, for now the remaining twelve had launched themselves at the spiders, engaging in such a strong attack that they were successfully turning the spiders away.

With the spiders taken care of, Bilbo ran to Kíli’s side, Sting still secure in his hand.

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo asked him, scanning his body for any external injuries. “What happened?”

“One of the spiders nearly stabbed me through the side. I managed to just get away because I kept running, but I ended up tripping and landing on my ankle.” Bilbo then noticed that Kíli was sitting on top of an enormous root sticking out of the ground. It stuck out high enough that Bilbo could imagine it would be easy to trip over, especially considering Kíli had been running for his life, not caring too much about such little details like a root sticking out of the ground. The fall would have been enough to sprain his ankle.

Bilbo looked up and saw Fíli running to his brother’s side.

“What happened?” He yelled, his tone a bit frantic, in a protective, brotherly sort of way.

“I’m pretty sure he sprained his ankle,” Bilbo said, trying to keep his tone level.

“We have to get him out of the forest. How are we going to get out?”

“I think I know how,” Thorin said as he crept up behind his nephew. He pointed to a spot behind Bilbo. Bilbo turned and realized that it was a bit of the path peeking out from underneath the leaves. How was it possible? Was it merely a hallucination? But how could it be a figment of his imagination if Thorin saw it too?

“Come on, then,” Bilbo said. He moved to join Fíli at Kíli’s side. The two of them helped Kíli to his feet and, with one man on either side of him, they began to walk with him to the path. Bilbo looked over his shoulder and saw the rest of the Company following behind them. Thorin must have noticed the path earlier and pointed it out to the others already.

Sure enough, by some stroke of luck, they managed to find the actual path again. The path was not wide enough for Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli to all walk alongside each other, but they had no choice. They all walked in a line together, with Fíli and Bilbo staying off the path; Kíli needed the level ground the path provided the most out of the three of them. Somehow they were able to keep track of where they were, even without walking directly along the path. It was no doubt because they were holding onto Kíli, who made sure to stay on the path. Bilbo wasn’t sure what kind of magic made it so this would happen, but he was grateful for it. They had already been through enough.

The path stretched on for several minutes longer and then finally a glimpse of the outside sky crept in between the branches of the trees, lighting the last stretch of the path to the end of the forest.

When they reached the end of the path, Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief, grateful to once again be in the outside world, with the sun shining on his face. It was nearing sundown now, but the sun stood a little ways above the horizon. Who knew how much daytime light would be left, but it was certain to not be a lot more. They had a few hours left until it got dark if they were lucky.

“We need to find somewhere to settle for the night,” Thorin commanded to the others. “We can’t cover much ground right now with Kíli injured. We need a night’s rest, and then we’ll keep moving in the morning.”

No one protested Thorin’s commands. They continued walking, walking in no particular direction. They weren’t going to move towards Erebor. They wouldn’t be ready to defend themselves against Smaug with one of their own injured. No, they had to find a safer spot, sticking to the outskirts.

After a little ways, they stopped. They were all exhausted from the walking and subsequent fighting in the forest. Thorin figured it fair enough for them to take a short break to rest and regain their breath and strength.

“But we can only stop for a few minutes,” Thorin said, “and once we get moving again we aren’t going to stop until we find somewhere to set up camp, alright?”

Bilbo and Fíli found a soft spot in the ground to set Kíli down.

“Thanks,” Kíli managed.

“How does it feel?” Fíli asked.

Kíli opened his mouth right as Thorin approached the three of them.

“I’d like to speak to our burglar alone for a moment,” Thorin said.

Heart beginning to race, Bilbo stood up and Thorin led him a ways away from his nephews. Bilbo heard Kíli begin to speak, though they were far enough away that he didn’t understand a word Kíli was saying to his brother.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Thorin said, his eyes shining as he looked down at Bilbo. He wasn’t smiling, but his expression beamed in the way Bilbo had only seen after Bilbo saved him the last time. “I don’t know what you did to get rid of those spiders, but whatever you did saved our lives. And you helped Kíli get this far.”

The corners of Bilbo’s lips turned up. “It’s the least I could do for you after you’ve let me stay on this quest for this long. It’s felt like you’ve had many an opportunity to be rid of me, I who is little more than just an assassin to you at the end of the day, and yet you let me stay because you know I support your cause. It has been an honor to be on this quest with all of you.”

This brought a smile to Thorin. This was one of the few times Bilbo had seen him smile. It sent his heart doing backflips. Thorin had such a beautiful smile and the fact that he only saved it for the most special of occasions made Bilbo feel all the more important.

“You really are an assassin, though.” It wasn’t a question, but Thorin must have still been grappling with the new information from the other day.

“Yeah. That’s why I was prepared to fight off that warg while you were unarmed. I also fought the spiders to get us out of there just now. I’ve been trained to get out of sticky situations quick. Just because I haven’t been so forthcoming with it doesn’t mean the skill hasn’t always been there. And I will use those skills to continue to protect you all as best as I can.”

“I guess there’s always been more to you than meets the eye.” He put one hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.

Bilbo tried not to gulp, even though he desperately wanted to swallow the lump growing in the back of his throat.

They maintained eye contact for a second and then they both broke it at the same time to look back over at Fíli and Kíli. A chill hit Bilbo’s shoulder as he felt Thorin slide his hand off.

“I ought to go make sure those two don’t cause anymore trouble,” Bilbo said, and the two men laughed.

“We need to keep going,” Thorin said. “Make sure they’re ready to go.”

The two parted and upon returning to the soft spot in the ground, Bilbo repeated Thorin’s instructions. A few feet away Thorin was corralling everyone else.

Bilbo knelt down to help Kíli get to his feet and then, slow step by step, the three of them returned to rejoin the rest of the Company.

From there they kept moving forward and they didn’t stop until they saw a parked van appear out of nowhere. It was parked alongside a river—since when was there a river out in this part of the country? Thorin had never mentioned there being a river out here, nor had they heard the sound of running water as they walked this way. It was a black van, nothing like the white van they left at Beorn’s house, but it looked like it was larger than their van, hopefully giving for enough room for all fourteen of them to share with a little personal space to add.

“I don’t think we should go there,” Balin said. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What other choice do we have?” Thorin questioned. “I’d hear you out if you had another proposition, but there is nothing else in sight and we need to try this, seeing as it’s our only option.”

They made their way towards the van. Bilbo wasn’t sure if they were merely checking it out to see if they could sleep there for the night or if Thorin actually meant to steal it. Whatever his intentions were, Bilbo shared Balin’s sentiment. Along every step of the way Bilbo felt uneasy about straying too far out of his comfort zone. Of course, attacking spiders wasn’t one of those things, but he drew the line at stealing a random van parked outside of the forest.

Everything felt like it was going to work out until they got closer to the van. Thorin peered into the window closest to them to see if there was anyone inside. It appeared that the van was empty, but they all jumped when a man came out from the other side of the van.

“What are you doing?” The man asked. “Thieves, I see?”

“No, and who are you?” Thorin grumbled.

“This is my van. I’m Bard of Lake-town. You’re from Erebor, aren’t you?”


End file.
